– William Blake (1757-1827)
Hear the voice of the Bard,
Who present, past, and future, sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walk'd among the ancient trees;
Calling the lapsèd soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might control
The starry pole,
And fallen, fallen light renew!
'O Earth, O Earth, return!
Arise from out the dewy grass!
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the slumbrous mass.
'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
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Paula loves Blake. I’ve always had this fascination that is more like a deer in the headlights. I’ve never really seen him as a Romantic: for me he’s more like an angry and prophetic reincarnation of some early Christian hermit, nagging away at the ragged edges of human nature.
