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The Lamb. ‘The Lamb’ by William Blake was included in The Songs of Innocence published in 1789. It is regarded “as one of the great lyrics of English Literature.”. ‘The Lamb’ is the companion piece to Blake’s ‘The Tyger’. It was published at the same time and uses the lamb as an image of God’s goodness and overarching will.
28 de abr. de 2023 · Blake’s poetry was not well known by the general public, but he was mentioned in A Biographical Dictionary of the Living Authors of Great Britain and Ireland, published in 1816. Samuel Taylor Coleridge , who had been lent a copy of Songs of Innocence and of Experience , considered Blake a “man of Genius,” and William Wordsworth made his own copies of several songs.
By William Blake. I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow. And mark in every face I meet. Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infants cry of fear, In every voice: in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
By William Blake. Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun: Seeking after that sweet golden clime. Where the travellers journey is done. Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire, Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.
William Blake (28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827) was an English poet, painter, and printmaker. Largely unrecognised during his life, Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual art of the Romantic Age.
By The Editors. Illustration by Sophie Herxheimer. Best known in his time as a painter and engraver, William Blake is now known as a major visionary poet whose expansive style influenced 20th-century writers and musicians as varied as T.S. Eliot, Allen Ginsberg, and Bob Dylan. Blake’s body of work is large and sometimes extremely dense, often ...
A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turn'd to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
