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 Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house filld with doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions.
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear.
A Sky lark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing.
The Game Cock clipd and armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every Wolf’s & Lion’s howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer, wandring here & there,
Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
The Lamb misusd breeds Public strife
And yet forgives the Butchers Knife.
The Bat that flies at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright.
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men.
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd.
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity.
He who torments the Chafers sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
The Caterpillar on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggers Dog & Widows Cat,
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that singst his Summers song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue.
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot.
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy.
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags.
A truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly Know
Thro the World we safely go.
Joy & Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than Swaddling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, & Born were hands,
Every Farmer Understands.
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity;
This is caught by Females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore.
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death.
The Beggars Rags, fluttering in Air,
Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun,
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun.
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore.
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy.
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mock’d in Age & Death.
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out.
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death.
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans 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 Caesars Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like the Armours iron brace.
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
The Emmets’ inch & Eagles mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile,
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will never believe do what you please.
If the Sun & 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 & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate.
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet.
The Winners Shout, the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse.
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn & 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 & 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.
William Blake