Writing William Blake

[Charles]

I know that there are some poetry freaks cruising these parts. Especially my buddy Mitch. [i]So[/i], I have decided to post a couple of my favorite poems---from William Blake! lol

Blake's work really amazes me because he had no formal education. [I]And[/i], perhaps more intriguing, he claimed to be a mystic. He saw visions of God and trees filled with angels. I read this stuff in both Middle school and High school, so some of you might be familiar with it as well.

[b]The Lamb[/b]

Little Lamb,who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Gave thee life & bid thee feed,
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!

Little Lamb,who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb I'll tell thee!

He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb;
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.

Little Lamb God bless thee.
Little Lamb God bless thee.

[b]The Tyger[/b]

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests 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, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was they 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?

If I get some decent responses and insight dealing with the poetry, I'll be glad to post more. :)

[Heaven's Cloud]

[color=indigo]I always thought Blake to rather stuffy, but some of his work is very brilliant...besides [i]The Tyger[/i] this is my personal favorite.

MAD SONG

The wild winds weep,
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs infold
But lo! the morning peeps 5
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling birds of dawnt
The earth do scorn.

Lo! to the vault
Of paved heaven,
With sorrow fraught
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of night,
Make weep the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with tempests play.

Like a fiend in a cloud
With howling woe,
After night I do croud,
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east,

From whence comforts have increas'd;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.
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[LostProphet]

We're in the middle of the Romanticism unit right now, and those are in my textbook. Blake is kind of stuffy, but as mentioned before his work can be rather brilliant. From the Romanticism era, I'm more a fan of American Authors, since what they write about is closer to the way americans are (if that makes any sense).