Poet's Corner

To Autumn

O autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe;
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

"The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head."

"The spirits of the air live on the smells
Of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees."
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat;
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

From Poetical Sketches

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A War Song to Englishmen

Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!

Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare
Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth!
Prepare your arms for glorious victory!
Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!

Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine!
Why sinks my heart, why faultereth my tongue?
Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause,
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.

The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!
Angels of Death stand in the low'ring realms of light,
And walk together on the clouds of heaven!

Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause;
Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:
Prepare to meet our father's in the sky:
Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!

Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;
The Norman William, and the learned Clerk,
And Lion Heart, and black-brow'd Edward with
His loyal queen shall rise, and welcome us!

From Poetical Sketches

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To Tirzah

Whate'er is Born of Mortal Birth,
Must be consumed with the Earth
To rise from Generation free;
Then what have I to do with thee?

The Sexes sprung from Shame & Pride
Blow'd in the morn: in evening died.
But Mercy changed Death into Sleep;
The Sexes rose to work & weep.

Thou Mother of my Mortal part
With cruelty didst mould my Heart,
And with false self-decieving tears,
Didst bind my Nostrils, Eyes & Ears.

Didst close my Tongue in senseless clay,
And me to Mortal Life betray:
The Death of Jesus set me free;
Then what have I to do with thee?

from Songs of Experience

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Soft Snow

I walked abroad in a snowy day
I askd the soft snow with me to play
She playd ? she melted in all her prime
And the winter calld it a dreadful crime

An old maid early eer I knew
Ought but the love that on me grew
And now Im coverd oer ? oer
And wish that I had been a Whore

O I cannot find
The undaunted courage of a Virgin Mind
For Early I in love was crost
Before my flower of love was lost
Grown old in Love from Seven till Seven times Seven
I oft have wished for Hell for Ease from Heaven

from Blake's Notebook

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The Land of Dreams

"Awake, awake, my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep."

"O, what Land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its Mountains & what are its Streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the Lillies by waters fair.

"Among the Lambs, clothed in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;
O! when shall I again return?"

"Dear Child, I also by pleasant Streams
Have wander'd all Night in the Land of Dreams;
But tho calm & warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side."

"Father, O Father! what do we here
In this Land of unbelief & fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far,
Above the light of the Morning Star."

from The Pickering Manuscript

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