The art of poetry.

"Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful."
- Rita Dove, 1952 - present.

A collection of poesies for the poetic souls.

There will be no new posts; this tumblelog is is now an archive.

Love’s Secret

4th July 11

by William Blake

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 told her all my heart; 
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears, 
Ah! she did depart!

Soon as she was gone from me, 
A traveler came by, 
Silently, invisibly 
He took her with a sigh.

A Poison Tree by William Blake

4th May 10

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

London by William Blake

15th February 10

I wander through each chartered street
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every black’ning church appalls,
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new born Infant’s tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

Auguries of innocence by William Blake

10th February 10

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.