William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Poems

81. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Vii 1/3/2003
82. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Viii 1/3/2003
83. The Book Of Urizen: Preludium 1/3/2003
84. The Caverns Of The Grave I'Ve Seen 1/3/2003
85. The Chimney Sweeper: A Little Black Thing Among The Snow 5/9/2001
86. The Chimney-Sweeper: When My Mother Died I Was Very Young 12/31/2002
87. The Clod And The Pebble 5/9/2001
88. The Crystal Cabinet 5/9/2001
89. The Echoing Green 12/31/2002
90. The Everlasting Gospel 1/1/2004
91. The Fairy 3/2/2015
92. The Fly 5/9/2001
93. The Four Zoas (Excerpt) 5/9/2001
94. The French Revolution (Excerpt) 5/9/2001
95. The Garden Of Love 12/31/2002
96. The Grey Monk 5/10/2001
97. The Human Abstract 1/3/2003
98. The Invocation 3/30/2010
99. The Lamb 12/31/2002
100. The Land Of Dreams 12/31/2002
101. The Lily 5/10/2001
102. The Little Black Boy 5/10/2001
103. The Little Boy Found 12/31/2002
104. The Little Boy Lost 12/31/2002
105. The Little Girl Found 1/13/2003
106. The Little Girl Lost 1/13/2003
107. The Little Vagabond 12/31/2002
108. The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell 5/10/2001
109. The New Jerusalem 5/10/2001
110. The Question Answered 5/10/2001
111. The Rhine Was Red. 4/17/2015
112. The Schoolboy 12/31/2002
113. The Shepherd 1/3/2003
114. The Sick Rose 5/10/2001
115. The Sky Is An Immortal Tent Built By The Sons Of Los 1/1/2004
116. The Smile 2/9/2015
117. The Song Of Los 1/3/2003
118. The Two Songs 1/3/2003
119. The Tyger 5/10/2001
120. The Voice Of The Ancient Bard 1/3/2003
Best Poem of William Blake

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Read the full of A Poison Tree

Why Was Cupid A Boy

Why was Cupid a boy,
And why a boy was he?
He should have been a girl,
For aught that I can see.

For he shoots with his bow,
And the girl shoots with her eye,
And they both are merry and glad,
And laugh when we do cry.

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