William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Poems

121. Eternity 1/3/2003
122. Three Things To Remember 1/3/2003
123. A Song 5/9/2001
124. The Garden Of Love 12/31/2002
125. Broken Love 1/1/2004
126. And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time 1/13/2003
127. A War Song To Englishmen 1/3/2003
128. A Little Girl Lost 5/9/2001
129. Ah Sunflower 5/9/2001
130. A Little Boy Lost 5/9/2001
131. A Dream 5/9/2001
132. London 5/9/2001
133. A Cradle Song 1/13/2003
134. The Angel 12/31/2002
135. Love's Secret 5/9/2001
136. A Divine Image 5/9/2001
137. Auguries Of Innocence 5/9/2001
138. The Tyger 5/10/2001
139. A Poison Tree 5/9/2001

Comments about William Blake

  • kayla (4/8/2018 11:22:00 PM)

    Hi my name is kayla and i like pomes

    5 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
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  • bobby (3/9/2018 4:41:00 AM)

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  • ripper58 (3/1/2018 3:24:00 PM)

    not as good as Poe...but

  • Tombiliboo Oo (3/1/2018 5:48:00 AM)

    William Blake is better than the night garden (by a tiny bit)

  • Peppa Pig (3/1/2018 5:46:00 AM)

    I'm a bird.

  • ur bro (2/28/2018 12:48:00 PM)

    ur mom gay .

  • ur bro (2/28/2018 12:45:00 PM)

    ur mom gay

  • the savage man (2/25/2018 10:07:00 AM)

    this should have poems

  • dis guy (2/22/2018 9:39:00 AM)

    fortnite = overated

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

Love's Secret

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!

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