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Thursday, May 10, 2001

To Spring

Rating: 2.9
O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

The hills tell each other, and the listening
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.
William Blake
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COMMENTS
Hans Vr 13 November 2016
I like this poem very much, as most of Blake's other writitngs I truly do not understand the people giving him ratings anything less than full marks.
3 1 Reply
Mizzy ........ 31 August 2016
Superb descriptions of Spring.......
3 1 Reply

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