Auguries of Innocence - An 1803 poem by William Blake скачать в хорошем качестве

Auguries of Innocence - An 1803 poem by William Blake

The 1803 poem Auguries of Innocence by William Blake performed in a delta blues style. 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. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage. A dove house fill'd with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro' all its regions. A dog starv'd at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state. A horse misus'd upon the road Calls to Heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear. A skylark wounded in the wing, A Cherubim does cease to sing. The game cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight Does the rising Sun affright. Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from Hell a human soul. ... He who respects the infant's faith Triumphs over Hell and Death. The child's toys and the old man's reasons Are the fruits of the two seasons. The questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to reply. He who replies to words of doubt Doth put the light of Knowledge out. The strongest poison ever known Came from Caesar's laurel crown, Nought can deform the human race Like to the armour's iron brace. When gold and gems adorn the plow To peaceful arts shall Envy bow. A riddle or the cricket's cry Is to doubt a fit reply. The emmet's inch and eagle's mile Make lame Philosophy to smile. He who doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you please. If the Sun and Moon should doubt, They'd immediately go out. To be in a passion you good may do, But no good if a passion is in you. The whore and gambler, by the state Licens'd, build that nation's fate. The harlot's cry from street to street, Shall weave Old England's winding sheet. The winner's shout, the loser's curse, Dance before dead England's hearse. Every night and every morn Some to misery are born. Every morn and every night Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night. We are led to believe a lie When we see not thro' the eye Which was born in a night to perish in a night, When the Soul slept in beams of light. God appears and God is light To those poor souls who dwell in night, But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day. #poetry #poetryvideo #poetrycommunity #williamblake