William Blake (1757-1827)

He saw too far, too deep
To linger long
Amid the zombie throng
Of men who are asleep.

He spied the angels near
Enough to touch;
He painted such
Exquisite visions clear.

He painted them with lines
And with his words:
Immortal birds
That fly in dream-designs.
06-09-74
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Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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