William Blake Poems

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
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To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
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Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
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I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!
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Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.
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Sweet dreams form a shade,
O'er my lovely infants head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy silent moony beams
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Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
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Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
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MY Spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way;
My Emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.
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