William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Poems

2. The Rhine Was Red. 4/17/2015
3. The Fairy 3/2/2015
4. The Smile 2/9/2015
5. The Chimney-Sweeper: When My Mother Died I Was Very Young 12/31/2002
6. The Invocation 3/30/2010
7. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Viii 1/3/2003
8. When Klopstock England Defied 1/3/2003
9. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Iii 1/3/2003
10. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter V 1/3/2003
11. The Book Of Urizen (Excerpts) 5/9/2001
12. The Book Of Urizen: Preludium 1/3/2003
13. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Vii 1/3/2003
14. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Ix 1/3/2003
15. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter I 1/3/2003
16. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Iv 1/3/2003
17. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Ii 1/3/2003
18. To Thomas Butts 1/1/2004
19. The Caverns Of The Grave I'Ve Seen 1/3/2003
20. The Book Of Urizen: Chapter Vi 1/3/2003
21. Preludium To Europe 5/9/2001
22. Milton: But In The Wine-Presses The Human Grapes Sing Not Nor Dance 5/9/2001
23. To Morning 1/3/2003
24. The Sky Is An Immortal Tent Built By The Sons Of Los 1/1/2004
25. Why Should I Care For The Men Of Thames 1/3/2003
26. Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms 1/3/2003
27. Jerusalem: I See The Four-Fold Man, The Humanity In Deadly Sleep 5/9/2001
28. The Question Answered 5/10/2001
29. The Song Of Los 1/3/2003
30. The Book Of Thel 5/9/2001
31. To The Accuser Who Is The God Of This World 1/3/2003
32. The French Revolution (Excerpt) 5/9/2001
33. My Spectre Around Me Night And Day 1/3/2003
34. The Four Zoas (Excerpt) 5/9/2001
35. Song 5/9/2001
36. I See The Four-Fold Man 1/1/2004
37. Reeds Of Innocence 1/3/2003
38. The Grey Monk 5/10/2001
39. The New Jerusalem 5/10/2001
40. Gwin King Of Norway 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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