Blake's Night Poem by Artchil Daug
Blake's Night
The Moon galloped sleepy hills,
Black robe, purple and silver;
Dreams like lightning riding thrills
All in the mind, a quiver,
Thorns with pois'nous tips, none this soul equips.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: purple,silver
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8/24/2026 11:57:37 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
