CreationEarth Nature Photos
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous William Blake Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous William Blake poems. This is a select list of the best famous William Blake poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous William Blake poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of william blake poems.

Search for the best famous William Blake poems, articles about William Blake poems, poetry blogs, or anything else William Blake poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also:

Written by William Blake |

Loves Secret

NEVER seek to tell thy love  
Love that never told can be; 
For the gentle wind doth move 
Silently invisibly.
I told my love I told my love 5 I told her all my heart Trembling cold in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart! Soon after she was gone from me A traveller came by 10 Silently invisibly: He took her with a sigh.

Written by William Blake |

Cradle Song

SLEEP sleep beauty bright  
Dreaming in the joys of night; 
Sleep sleep; in thy sleep 
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe in thy face 5 Soft desires I can trace Secret joys and secret smiles Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel Smiles as of the morning steal 10 O'er thy cheek and o'er thy breast Where thy little heart doth rest.
O the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep! When thy little heart doth wake 15 Then the dreadful night shall break.

Written by William Blake |

The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye 
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Written by William Blake |

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears, Night and morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see, My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

Written by William Blake |

Night

THE sun descending in the west  
The evening star does shine; 
The birds are silent in their nest.
And I must seek for mine.
The moon like a flower 5 In heaven's high bower With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell green fields and happy grove Where flocks have took delight: 10 Where lambs have nibbled silent move The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing And joy without ceasing On each bud and blossom 15 And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest Where birds are cover'd warm; They visit caves of every beast To keep them all from harm: 20 If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping They pour sleep on their head And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey 25 They pitying stand and weep Seeking to drive their thirst away And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful The angels most heedful 30 Receive each mild spirit New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes Shall flow with tears of gold: And pitying the tender cries 35 And walking round the fold: Saying 'Wrath by His meekness And by His health sickness Are driven away From our immortal day.
40 'And now beside thee bleating lamb I can lie down and sleep Or think on Him who bore thy name Graze after thee and weep.
For wash'd in life's river 45 My bright mane for ever Shall shine like the gold As I guard o'er the fold.
'

Written by William Blake |

Broken Love

 MY Spectre around me night and day 
Like a wild beast guards my way; 
My Emanation far within 
Weeps incessantly for my sin.
‘A fathomless and boundless deep, There we wander, there we weep; On the hungry craving wind My Spectre follows thee behind.
‘He scents thy footsteps in the snow Wheresoever thou dost go, Thro’ the wintry hail and rain.
When wilt thou return again? ’Dost thou not in pride and scorn Fill with tempests all my morn, And with jealousies and fears Fill my pleasant nights with tears? ‘Seven of my sweet loves thy knife Has bereav?d of their life.
Their marble tombs I built with tears, And with cold and shuddering fears.
‘Seven more loves weep night and day Round the tombs where my loves lay, And seven more loves attend each night Around my couch with torches bright.
‘And seven more loves in my bed Crown with wine my mournful head, Pitying and forgiving all Thy transgressions great and small.
‘When wilt thou return and view My loves, and them to life renew? When wilt thou return and live? When wilt thou pity as I forgive?’ ‘O’er my sins thou sit and moan: Hast thou no sins of thy own? O’er my sins thou sit and weep, And lull thy own sins fast asleep.
‘What transgressions I commit Are for thy transgressions fit.
They thy harlots, thou their slave; And my bed becomes their grave.
‘Never, never, I return: Still for victory I burn.
Living, thee alone I’ll have; And when dead I’ll be thy grave.
‘Thro’ the Heaven and Earth and Hell Thou shalt never, quell: I will fly and thou pursue: Night and morn the flight renew.
’ ‘Poor, pale, pitiable form That I follow in a storm; Iron tears and groans of lead Bind around my aching head.
‘Till I turn from Female love And root up the Infernal Grove, I shall never worthy be To step into Eternity.
‘And, to end thy cruel mocks, Annihilate thee on the rocks, And another form create To be subservient to my fate.
‘Let us agree to give up love, And root up the Infernal Grove; Then shall we return and see The worlds of happy Eternity.
‘And throughout all Eternity I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said: “This the Wine, and this the Bread.
”’

Written by William Blake |

Auguries Of Innocence

 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.
A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road Calls 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 clipped and armed for fight Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused 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 beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved Shall never be by woman loved.
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 Judgment draweth nigh.
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 from 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 Through 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 returned 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 armed 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 labourer'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 Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects 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 known 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 plough 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 Licensed, 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 through 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.

Written by William Blake |

Evening Star

 Thou fair hair'd angel of the evening,
Now, while the sun rests on the mountains light,
Thy bright torch of love; Thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves; and when thou drawest the 
Blue curtains, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep.
Let thy west wind sleep on The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes And wash the dusk with silver.
Soon, full, soon, Dost thou withdraw; Then, the wolf rages wide, And the lion glares thro' the dun forest.
The fleece of our flocks are covered with Thy sacred dew; Protect them with thine influence.

Written by William Blake |

I Heard an Angel

 I heard an Angel singing 
When the day was springing,
'Mercy, Pity, Peace
Is the world's release.
' Thus he sung all day Over the new mown hay, Till the sun went down And haycocks looked brown.
I heard a Devil curse Over the heath and the furze, 'Mercy could be no more, If there was nobody poor, And pity no more could be, If all were as happy as we.
' At his curse the sun went down, And the heavens gave a frown.
Down pour'd the heavy rain Over the new reap'd grain .
.
.
And Miseries' increase Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.

Written by William Blake |

Love and Harmony

 Love and harmony combine,
And round our souls entwine
While thy branches mix with mine,
And our roots together join.
Joys upon our branches sit, Chirping loud and singing sweet; Like gentle streams beneath our feet Innocence and virtue meet.
Thou the golden fruit dost bear, I am clad in flowers fair; Thy sweet boughs perfume the air, And the turtle buildeth there.
There she sits and feeds her young, Sweet I hear her mournful song; And thy lovely leaves among, There is love, I hear his tongue.
There his charming nest doth lay, There he sleeps the night away; There he sports along the day, And doth among our branches play.

Written by William Blake |

Ah! Sun-Flower

 Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done.
Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire.
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

Written by William Blake |

My Pretty Rose Tree

 A flower was offered to me;
Such a flower as May never bore.
But I said I've a Pretty Rose-tree.
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree: To tend her by day and by night.
But my Rose turnd away with jealousy: And her thorns were my only delight.

Written by William Blake |

Earths Answer

 Earth raised up her head.
From the darkness dread & drear, Her light fled: Stony dread! And her locks cover'd with grey despair.
Prison'd on watery shore Starry Jealousy does keep my den Cold and hoar Weeping o'er I hear the father of the ancient men Selfish father of men Cruel jealous selfish fear Can delight Chain'd in night The virgins of youth and morning bear.
Does spring hide its joy When buds and blossoms grow? Does the sower? Sow by night? Or the ploughman in darkness plough? Break this heavy chain.
That does freeze my bones around Selfish! vain! Eternal bane! That free Love with bondage bound.

Written by William Blake |

To Spring

O THOU with dewy locks who lookest down 
Through the clear windows of the morning turn 
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle  
Which in full choir hails thy approach O Spring! 

The hills tell one another and the listening 5 
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn'd 
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth 
And let thy holy feet visit our clime! 

Come o'er the eastern hills and let our winds 
Kiss thy perfum¨¨d garments; let us taste 10 
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls 
Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head 15 Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.

Written by William Blake |

The Human Abstract

 Pity would be no more,
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be.
If all were as happy as we; And mutual fear brings peace; Till the selfish loves increase.
Then Cruelty knits a snare, And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with holy fears.
And waters the ground with tears: Then Humility takes its root Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade Of Mystery over his head; And the Caterpillar and Fly Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit.
Ruddy and sweet to eat: And the Raven his nest has made In its thickest shade.
The Gods of the earth and sea, Sought thro' Nature to find this Tree But their search was all in vain: There grows one in the Human Brain