Soft Snow
I walked abroad in a snowy day
I askd the soft snow with me to play
She playd & she melted in all her prime
And the winter calld it a dreadful crime
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Poetry fettered, fetters the human race. Nations are destroyed or flourish in proportion as their poetry, painting, and music are destroyed or flourish.
quote by William Blake
Added by Lucian Velea
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It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God only.
quote by William Blake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Riches
The countless gold of a merry heart
The rubies & pearls of a loving eye
The indolent never can bring to the mart
Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To my Mirtle
o a lovely mirtle bound
Blossoms showring all around
O how sick & weary I
Underneath my mirtle lie
Why should I be bound to thee
O my lovely mirtle tree
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The foundation of empire is art and science. Remove them or degrade them, and the empire is no more. Empire follows art and not vice versa as Englishmen suppose.
quote by William Blake
Added by Lucian Velea
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To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes.
quote by William Blake
Added by Lucian Velea
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As I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius which to Angels look like torment and insanity. I collected some of their Proverbs.
quote by William Blake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Day
The Sun arises in the East
Clothd in robes of blood & gold
Swords & spears & wrath increast
All around his bosom rolld
Crownd with warlike fires & raging desires
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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If you trap the moment before its ripe...
If you trap the moment before its ripet
The tears of repentance youll certainly wipe
But if once you let the ripe moment go
You can never wipe off the tears of woe
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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