Tag Archives: Blake

“Proverbs of Hell” [1 of 3] by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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In seed-time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead.

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.

He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
 
The cut worm forgives the plough.

Dip him in the river who loves water.

A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.

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

Eternity is in love with the productions of time.

The busy bee has no time for sorrow.

The hours of folly are measured by the clock,
 but of wisdom no clock can measure.

All wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.

Bring out number, weight, and measure in a year of dearth.

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.

A dead body revenges not injuries.

The most sublime act is to set another before you.

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.

Folly is the cloak of knavery.

Shame is Pride's cloak.

Prisons are built with stones of law, brothels with bricks of religion.

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.

The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God.

“The Clod and the Pebble” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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"Love seeketh not itself to please,
   Nor for itself hath any care,
 But for another gives its ease,
   And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay
   Trodden with the cattle's feet,
 But a Pebble of the brook
   Warbled out these metres meet:

"Love seeketh only self to please,
   To bind another to its delight,
 Joys in another's loss of ease,
    And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

“Ah! Sun-flower” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
 Who countest the steps of the Sun:
 Seeking after that sweet golden clime
 Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
 And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
 Arise from their graves and aspire,
 Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

“A Poison Tree” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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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 & 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 veild the pole;
 In the morning glad I see;
  My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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To see a World in a Grain of Sand
 And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
 Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
 And Eternity in an hour
 A Robin Red breast in a Cage
 Puts all Heaven in a Rage
 A Dove house fill'd with Doves & Pigeons
 Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
 A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
 Predicts the ruin of the State
 A Horse misused upon the Road
 Calls to Heaven for Human Blood
 Each outcry of the hunted Hare
 A fibre from the Brain does tear
 A Skylark wounded in the wing
 A Cherubim does cease to sing
 The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
 Does the Rising Sun affright
 Every Wolfs & Lions howl 
 Raises from Hell a Human Soul
 The wild deer, wandering here & there
 Keeps the Human Soul from Care
 The Lamb misused breed Public Strife
 And yet forgives the Butchers knife
 The Bat that flits at close of Eve
 Has left the Brain that wont Believe
 The Owl that calls upon the Night
 Speaks the Unbelievers fright
 He who shall hurt the little Wren
 Shall never be beloved by Men
 He who the Ox to wrath is movd
 Shall never be by Woman lovd
 The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
 Shall feel the Spiders enmity
 He who torments the Chafers Sprite
 Weaves a Bower in endless Night
 The Catterpiller on the Leaf
 Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief 
 Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
 For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
 He who shall train the Horse to War
 Shall never pass the Polar Bar
 The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
 Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
 The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
 Poison gets from Slanders tongue
 The poison of the Snake & Newt 
 Is the sweat of Envys Foot
 The poison of the Honey Bee
 Is the Artists Jealousy
 The Princes Robes and Beggars Rags
 Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
 The Truth that's told with bad intent
 Beats all the Lies you can invent
 It is right it should be so
 Man was made for Joy & Woe
 And when this we rightly know
 Thro the World we safely go
 Joy & Woe are woven fine
 A Clothing for the soul divine
 Under every grief & pine
 Runs a joy with silken twine
 The Babe is more than swadling Bands
 Throughout all these Human Lands
 Tools were made & Born were hands
 Every Farmer Understands
 Every Tear from Every Eye
 Becomes a Babe in Eternity
 This is caught by Females bright
 And returnd to its own delight
 The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
 Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
 The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
 Writes Revenge in realms of Death
 The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
 Does to Rags the Heavens tear
 The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
 Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
 The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
 Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
 One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
 Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
 Or if protected from on high
 Does that whole Nation sell & buy
 He who mocks the Infants Faith
 Shall be mocked in Age & Death
 He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
 The rotting grave shall ne er get out
 He who respects the Infants faith
 Triumphs over Hell & Death
 The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
 Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
 The Questioner who sits so sly
 Shall never know how to reply
 He who replies to words of Doubt
 Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
 The Strongest Poison ever known
 Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
 Nought can Deform the Human Race
 Like to the Armours iron brace
 When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
 To peaceful Arts shall Envy bow
 A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
 Is to Doubt a fit Reply
 The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
 Make Lame Philosophy to smile
 He who Doubts from what he sees
 Will ne er Believe do what you Please
 If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
 Theyd immediately Go out
 To be in a Passion you Good may do
 But no Good if a Passion is in you
 The Whore & Gambler by the State
 Licencd build that Nations Fate
 The Harlots cry from Street to Street
 Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
 The Winner Shout the Losers Curse
 Dance before dead Englands Hearse
 Every Night & every Morn
 Some to Misery are Born
 Every Morn & every Night
 Some are Born to sweet delight
 Some are Born to sweet delight
 Some are Born to Endless Night
 We are led to Believe a Lie
 When we see not Thro the Eye
 Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
 When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
 God Appears & God is Light
 To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
 But does a Human Form Display
 To those who Dwell in Realms of Day

Five Wise Lines from The Book of Thel by William Blake

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Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? / Or Love in a golden bowl?

from Thel’s Motto

I am a watery weed, / And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales: / So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head. / Yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all / Walks in the valley.

from Part I

Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies, / How great thy use, how great thy blessing

from Part II

every thing that lives. / Lives not alone nor for itself

from Part II

Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction? / Or the glistening Eye to the poison of a smile!

from Part IV