William Blake in this World

Couverture
Harcourt Brace, 1925 - 234 pages
 

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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.

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