William Blake
William Blake
William Blakewas an English poet, painter, and printmaker. Largely unrecognised during his lifetime, Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age. His prophetic works have been said to form "what is in proportion to its merits the least read body of poetry in the English language". His visual artistry led one contemporary art critic to proclaim him "far and away the greatest artist Britain has ever produced". In...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPhilosopher
Date of Birth28 November 1757
All wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.
The fields from Islington to Marybone, / To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood, / Were builded over with pillars of gold; / And there Jerusalem's pillars stood.
The merchants are rich enough;Can they not help themselves?
The Desire of Man being Infinite, the possession is Infinite, and himself Infinite.
Am not IA fly like thee?Or art not thouA man like me?
And Father, how can I love youOr any of my brothers more?I love you like the little birdThat picks up crumbs around the door.
And because I am happy and dance and sing,They think they have done me no injury.
The crow wished everything was black, the owl, that every thing was white.
The Child's Toys and the Old Man's ReasonsAre the Fruits of the Two seasons.
The caterpillar on the leaf / Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
A musician, an artist, an architect: the man or woman who is not one of these is not a Christian.
Father, O father! what do we here In this land of unbelief and fear?
O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou build thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead.