William Blake

What is Grand is necessarily obscure to Weak men. That which can be made Explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.

When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright in the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Cruelty has a human heart, And Jealousy a human face; Terror the human form divine, And Secrecy the human dress.

Children of the future Age Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time Love! sweet Love! was thought a crime.

In the morning glad I see My foe outstretch'd beneath the 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.

My mother groan'd! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud: Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Pity would be no more If we did not make somebody Poor; And Mercy no more could be If all were as happy as we.

But most, thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble sheep a threat'ning horn: While the Lily white shall in love delight, Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee?

O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm:Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love

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.

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.

Turn away no more; Why wilt thou turn away? The starry floor, The watery shore Is given thee till the break of day.

Hear the voice of the Bard, Who present, past, and future, sees; Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walked among the ancient trees.

You'll quite remove the ancient curse.

What is it men in women do require? The lineaments of gratified desire. What is it women do in men require? The lineaments of gratified desire.

The look of love alarms Because 'tis filled with fire; But the look of soft deceit Shall win the lover's hire.

He who binds to himself a joy Does the wingèd life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sunrise.

Then old Nobodaddy aloft Farted and belched and coughed, And said, "I love hanging and drawing and quartering Every bit as well as war and slaughtering."