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
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.
When the voices of children are heard on the green, / And laughing is heard on the hill, / My heart is at rest within my breast, / And everything else is still.
Praises reap not! Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laugh'd And all the hills echoed
Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
Improvement makes straight roads; but the crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius
Every Night and every MornSome to Misery are born.Every Morn and every NightSome are born to Sweet Delight,Some are born to Endless Night.
The Bat that flits at close of EveHas left the Brain that won't believe.The Owl that calls upon the NightSpeaks the Unbeliever's fright.
Then every man of every clime,That prays in his distress,Prays to the human form divine,Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
The countless gold of a merry heart,The rubies and pearls of a loving eye,The indolent never can bring to the mart,Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.
I must Create a System, or be enslaved by another Man's; / I will not Reason and Compare; my business is to Create.
Never seek to tell thy love, / Love that never told can be; / For the gentle wind does move / Silently, invisibly.
Swedenborg is the Angel sitting at the tomb: his writings are the linen clothes folded up.
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,Dreaming in the joys of night;Sleep, sleep; in thy sleepLittle sorrows sit and weep.