#Aphorism #Imagery #Metaphor
I dreamt a dream! What can it me… And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne’er beguiled! And I wept both night and day,
The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest… And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower
A little black thing among the sno… Crying “weep! 'weep!” in notes of… “Where are thy father and mother?… “They are both gone up to the chur… Because I was happy upon the heat…
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush,
Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love,
`I die, I die!' the Mother said, `My children die for lack of bread… What more has the merciless tyrant… The Monk sat down on the stony be… The blood red ran from the Grey M…
Is this a holy thing to see In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song?
I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his hor… And the skylark sings with me. Oh, what sweet company!
I walked abroad in a snowy day; I asked the soft snow with me to p… She played and she melted in all h… And the winter called it a dreadfu…
LEAVE, O leave me to my sorrows… Here I’ll sit and fade away, Till I’m nothing but a spirit, And I lose this form of clay. Then if chance along this forest
When my mother died I was very yo… And my father sold me while yet my… Could scarcely cry “ ‘weep! ’weep!… So your chimneys I sweep & in soo… There’s little Tom Dacre, who cri…
Earth rais’d up her head From the darkness dread and drear. Her light fled, Stony dread! And her locks cover’d with grey de…
WHEN the green woods laugh with… And the dimpling stream runs laugh… When the air does laugh with our m… And the green hill laughs with the… When the meadows laugh with lively…
O FOR a voice like thunder, and… To drown the throat of war! When… Are shaken, and the soul is driven… Who can stand? When the souls of… Fight in the troubled air that rag…
q| I will sing you a song of Los,… He sung it to four harps, at the t… In heart-formèd Africa. Urizen faded! Ariston shudder’d! And thus the Song began:—