William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

Holy Thursday (Experience) - Poem by William Blake

Is this a holy thing to see.
In a rich and fruitful land.
Babes reduced to misery.
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine.
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.


Comments about Holy Thursday (Experience) by William Blake

  • Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh (4/22/2016 9:53:00 AM)


    A nice poem from a great poet. (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (3/3/2008 12:34:00 PM)


    good, good............. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: poverty, song, winter, children, rain, sun, joy, child



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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