William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Poems

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

  • Gary Bisaga (9/17/2009 8:09:00 AM)

    I agree with Barbara Bizarro completely except the line:

    The simplicity of his writing underlines the little society at the time knew about the consequences of their actions.

    I think society knew very well the consequences of their actions; or more precisely, most in society did. It's easy, looking back now, to not see the daily struggle for existence that most people went through. They may not have scientifically understood everything that happened as a consequence of their actions, but they certainly knew that behavior A resulted in situation B. Blake helped usher in the romantic ideas of simplicity and idealism (the the ideal society is simplest and most natural) so in that sense did damage. But I agree that he is an excellent writer, and I am really beginning to appreciate his glorious poetry myself.

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  • Andrew Hoellering (8/14/2009 5:02:00 PM)

    Both of you live in hope but are as nutty as fruit cakes. Blake was born in 1757 and died in 1827. He would have been pleased with your comment, Barbara Bizarro.

  • Rebecca Smith (7/29/2009 7:47:00 PM)

    Hello William Blake. My name is Rebecca Smith i started writing poetry last summer and my first poem was called Summer, i've written over abt 22 poems in the last past months and i have a friend who's working on the book and i plan on getting them published. When did you start writing? ? My favorite poem by you is A Dream. it's lovely! ! ! ! how was writing poetry for you? ? was it hard, or easy? ? for me it's both! ! ! ! your an Awesome writer! ! ! keep up the good work. I hope you reply to my comment i would love to talk to you. Love Rebecca! ! !

  • Babyjoram Benson (5/18/2009 6:13:00 AM)

    Hello
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    and it really acttract me alot i believe that you are the man i
    have been looking for to share my love; How is your health? i hope all is well
    with you. I believe that we can move from here; but remember that distance; age
    and colour dose not matter what matters is the true love and understanding; in
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    me with this mail address for further introduction.
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  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:37:00 AM)

    romantic touch in the poems gives me bliss, good poems.

  • Poppi Westbury (2/24/2008 6:58:00 AM)

    His poems speak to the romantic soul in me. I think his work is beautiful, mystical and enthralling.

  • Hannah Oak (3/11/2006 5:27:00 AM)

    Wiliam Blake has an interesting outlook when it comes to writing poems.Its the way he uses theoratical terms in his poetry that fasinates me the most and he also gives a sometimes happy sometimes sad outlook on certain areas on life in which you would quickley over see and not give much thought about.

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

Earth's Answer

Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.

'Prisoned on watery shore,
Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;

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