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Ancients angels answer appeared artist beautiful believe called concerning conversation Court death designs Divine drawing earth English engraving eternity existence expression eyes face fear Felpham fire Flaxman follow Fountain French Fuseli gave genius give Grave hand happy Hayley head hear heard heart Heaven Holy human imagination Italy John kind knew labour letter light Linnell lived London look Lord the King meaning meet mind morning nature never night once opinion Paine paint painter Palmer poem poor reported Robinson round seemed seen sitting Smith song soon speak spirit Subjects sweet tell things thought tion told took turn Varley visions visits voice Vols wife William Blake wish write written wrote youth
Page 176 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 29 - To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is God our Father dear; And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is man, His child and care. For Mercy has a human heart; Pity, a human face; And Love, the human form divine: And Peace, the human dress.
Page 132 - Bring me my Bow of burning gold : Bring me my Arrows of desire : Bring me my Spear : O clouds unfold ! Bring me my Chariot of fire. I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant Land.
Page 130 - I know of no other Christianity and of no other Gospel than the liberty both of body & mind to exercise the Divine Arts of Imagination...
Page 26 - I wander thro' 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.
Page 28 - TWAS on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green, Grey-headed beadles walk'd before, with wands as white as snow, Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames
Page 116 - I have written this poem from immediate dictation, twelve or sometimes twenty or thirty lines at a time, without premeditation, and even against my will.
Page 17 - Let the slave grinding at the mill run out into the field, Let him look up into the heavens & laugh in the bright air; Let the inchained soul, shut up in darkness and in sighing, Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years, Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open; And let his wife and children return from the oppressor's scourge.
Page 3 - TO THE MUSES. WHETHER on Ida's shady brow Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the Sun, that now From ancient melody have ceased ; Whether in heaven ye wander fair Or the green corners of the earth, Or the blue regions of the...
Page 22 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.