William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

How Sweet I Roam'D - Poem by William Blake

How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride
'Til the prince of love beheld
Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He shew'd me lilies for my hair
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his garden fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.


Comments about How Sweet I Roam'D by William Blake

  • (9/13/2016 5:26:00 AM)


    It is interesting that this poem about love has no feamle reference at all, suggesting perhaps that love is an impersonal power that dominates us. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: loss, pride, summer, hair, rose



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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