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William Blake (1757-1827)
English Painter, Engraver and Poet
Angielski malarz, poeta i twórca rycin
Blake is one of the major romantic poets, whose verse and artwork became part of the wider movement of romanticism in the late eighteenth century. However, during his lifetime critics often questioned his sanity! Read through some of his best work and judge for yourself ...
Blake jest jednym z głównych poetów romantycznych, od którego poezja i sztuka romantyczna wzięła swoje początki. Jednakże za jego życia krytycy często kwestionowali jego zdrowie psychiczne! Przeczytaj niektóre z jego najlepszych utworów i oceń sam(a)...
"The true method of knowledge is experiment"
"The man who never alters his opinions is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind"
"If a thing loves, it is infinite"
"Forgiveness of enemies can only come upon their repentance"
"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom"
"He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence"
"Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you"
"Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained"
"You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough"
"The tree, which moves some to tears of joy, is, in the eyes of others, only a green thing that stands in the way. As a man is, so he sees"
'JERUSALEM ' (excerpt)
... I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
'ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE'
... Principle VIII - As all men are alike (though infinitely various), so all religions, and, as all similars, have one source. The true man is the source, he being the poetic genius.
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears: -
Ah! She did depart.
Soon after she was gone from me
A traveller came by,
He took her with a sigh.
Merry, merry sparrow
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Sees you swift as arrow
Seek your cradle narrow
Near my bosom.
Pretty, pretty Robin,
Under leaves so green,
A happy blossom
Hears you sobbing, sobbing
Near my bosom.
I love to rise in a summer morn
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me
Oh, what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn
Oh! It drives all joy away;
Under a cruel eye outworn
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah! Then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning's bower.
Worn through with the dreary shower ...
'THE LITTLE BLACK BOY'
My mother bore me in the southern wild.
And I am black, but O! my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved of light ...
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