Quotes

11 November 2014

Truly, My Satan, thou art but a Dunce, And dost not know the Garment from the Man. Every Harlot was a Virgin once, Nor can'st thou ever change Kate into Nan.

11 November 2014

For where'er the sun does shine, And where'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.

11 November 2014

His little throat labours with inspiration, every feather On throat and breast and wings vibrates with the effluence Divine.

11 November 2014

we Reap in joy the fruit Which we in bitter tears did sow.

11 November 2014

And if the Babe is born a Boy He's given to a Woman Old, Who nails him down upon a rock Catches his shrieks in cups of gold.

11 November 2014

And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills?

11 November 2014

The lark sitting upon his earthy bed, just as the morn Appears, listens silent, then springing from the waving Corn-field, loud He leads the Choir of Day—

11 November 2014

Bring me my Bow of burning gold: Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire! I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand, Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green & pleasant Land.

11 November 2014

Christ's crucifix shall be made an excuse for executing criminals.

11 November 2014

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

8/4/2021 11:25:33 AM # 1.0.0.669