London.
The Sick Rose.
The Tyger.
The Clod and the Pebble.
A Poison Tree.
To the Evening Star.
Mock On.
Auguries of Innocence.
London
I wander tho' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The nind forg'd manacles I hear,
How the Chimney sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But nos thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blast the newborn Infants tear
And blight with plagues the Marriage hearse.
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O Rose, thou art sick.
Has found out thy bed
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Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In what distant deeps or skies
And what shoulder, & what art,
What the Hammer? what the chain?
When the stars threw down their spears
Tiger, Tiger, burning bright,
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"Love seeketh not Itself to please,
So sang a little Clod of Clay
"Love seeketh only Self to please,
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I was angry with my friend;
And I water'd it in fears,
And it grew both day and night,
And into my garden stole
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Thou Fair-haired Angel of the Evening,
In timely sleep. Let thy West Wind sleep on
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Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
And every sand becomes a Gem
The Atoms of Democritus
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To see a World in a Grain of Sand
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
The Sick Rose
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
The Tyger
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
In the forests of the nigh:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
The Clod and the Pebble
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
To bind another to Its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."
A Poison Tree
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
When the night had veil'd the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.
To The Evening Star
Now, Whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves; and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the duck with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages with;
And the lion glares through the dun forest:
The fleeces of the flocks are covered with
Thy scared dew: protect them with thine influence.
Mock On
Mock on, mock on, 'Tis all in vain.
You throw the sand against the wind'
And the wind blows it back again.
Reflected in the beams divine;
Blown back, they blind the mocking Eye,
But still in Israel's paths they shine.
And Newton's Particles of light
Are sands upon the Red sea shore,
Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.
Auguries of Innocence
And a Heaven in a Wild flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill'd with doves and Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A horse misus'd upon the Road
Call 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 clip'd and arm'd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every Wolf's and Lion's howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
The Lamb Misus'd breeds Public strife
And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that won't Believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spider's enmity.
He who torments the Chafer's sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
The Caterpillar on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgement draweth night.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar's Dog and Widow's Cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer's song
Poison gets form Slander's tongue.
The poison of the Snake and Newt
Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
The Poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artist's Jealousy.
The Prince's Robes and Beggar's Rags
Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.
A 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 and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro' the World we safely go.
Joy and Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than swaddling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, and Born were hands,
Every Farmer Understands.
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity;
This is caught by Females bright
And retun'd to its own delight.
The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow and Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death.
The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,
Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
The Soldier, arm'd with Sword and Gun,
Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.
The poor Man's Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore.
One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands
Shall buy and sell the Miser's Lands:
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole Nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the Infant's faith
Triumphs over Hell and Death
The Child's Toys and the Old Man's 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 know
Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like to the Armour's iron brace.
When Gold and Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall envy Bow.
A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
The Emmet's Inch and Eagle's Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er Believe, do what you Please.
If the Sun and Moon should doubt,
They'd immediately Go out.
To be in a Passion you good may do,
But no Good if a Passion is in you.
The Whore and Gambler, by the State
Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
The Harlot's cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet.
The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse,
Dance before dead England's Hearse.
Every Night and every Morn
some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn and 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 and 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?
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