Selections
From Blake for EN 68
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The Digital Blake Text Project
Department of English
University of Georgia
electronic edition of
THE COMPLETE
POETRY AND PROSE OF
WILLIAM BLAKE
NEWLY REVISED EDITION, 1988
EDITED BY
David V. Erdman
Illuminated manuscripts of many Blake poems
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Selected Poetry of William Blake (1757-1827)
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ALL RELIGIONS are ONE The Voice of one crying in the Wilderness The Argument As the true method of knowledge is experiment the true faculty of knowing must be the faculty which experiences. This faculty I treat of. PRINCIPLE 1st That the Poetic Genius is the true Man. and that the body or outward form of Man is derived from the Poetic Genius. Likewise that the forms of all things are derived from their Genius. which by the Ancients was call'd an Angel & Spirit & Demon. PRINCIPLE 2d As all men are alike in outward form, So (and with the same infinite variety) all are alike in the Poetic Genius PRINCIPLE 3d No man can think write or speak from his heart, but he must intend truth. Thus all sects of Philosophy are from the Poetic Genius adapted to the weaknesses of every individual PRINCIPLE 4. As none by traveling over known lands can find out the unknown. So from already acquired knowledge Man could not acquire more. therefore an universal Poetic Genius exists PRINCIPLE. 5. The Religions of all Nations are derived from each Nations different reception of the Poetic Genius which is every where call'd the Spirit of Prophecy. PRINCIPLE 6 The Jewish & Christian Testaments are An original derivation from the Poetic Genius. this is necessary from the confined nature of bodily sensation PRINCIPLE 7th As all men are alike (tho' infinitely various) So all Religions & as all similars have one source The true Man is the source he being the Poetic Genius THERE is NO NATURAL RELIGION The Author & Printer W Blake [a] The Argument Man has no notion of moral fitness but from Education. Naturally he is only a natural organ subject to Sense. I Man cannot naturally Percieve, but through his natural or bodily organs II Man by his reasoning power. can only compare & judge of what he has already perciev'd. III From a perception of only 3 senses or 3 elements none could deduce a fourth or fifth IV None could have other than natural or organic thoughts if he had none but organic perceptions V Mans desires are limited by his perceptions. none can desire what he has not perciev'd VI The desires & perceptions of man untaught by any thing but organs of sense, must be limited to objects of sense. THERE is NO NATURAL RELIGION [b] I Mans perceptions are not bounded by organs of perception. he percieves more than sense (tho' ever so acute) can discover. II Reason or the ratio of all we have already known. is not the same that it shall be when we know more. [III lacking] IV The bounded is loathed by its possessor. The same dull round even of a univer[s]e would soon become a mill with complicated wheels. V If the many become the same as the few, when possess'd, More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul, less than All cannot satisfy Man. VI If any could desire what he is incapable of possessing, despair must be his eternal lot. VII The desire of Man being Infinite the possession is Infinite & himself Infinite Conclusion, If it were not for the Poetic or Prophetic character. the Philosophic & Experimental would soon be at the ratio of all things & stand still, unable to do other than repeat the same dull round over again Application. He who sees the Infinite in all things sees God. He who sees the Ratio only sees himself only. Therefore God becomes as we are, that we may be as he is THE BOOK of THEL The Author & Printer Willm Blake, 1789. PLATE i THEL'S Motto, Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? Or wilt thou go ask the Mole: Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? Or Love in a golden bowl? PLATE 1 THEL I The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks. All but the youngest; she in paleness sought the secret air. To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day: Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard: And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew. O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water? Why fade these children of the spring? born but to smile & fall. Ah! Thel is like a watry bow. and like a parting cloud. Like a reflection in a glass. like shadows in the water. Like dreams of infants. like a smile upon an infants face, Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air; Ah! gentle may I lay me down, and gentle rest my head. And gentle sleep the sleep of death. and gentle hear the voice Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time. The Lilly of the valley breathing in the humble grass Answer'd the lovely maid and said; I am a watry weed, And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales; So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head. Yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all. Walks in the valley. and each morn over me spreads his hand Saying, rejoice thou humble grass, thou new-born lilly flower, Thou gentle maid of silent valleys. and of modest brooks; For thou shalt be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna: Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs To flourish in eternal vales: then why should Thel complain, PLATE 2 Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter a sigh. She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine. Thel answerd. O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley. Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'ertired. Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells thy milky garments, He crops thy flowers. while thou sittest smiling in his face, Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints. Thy wine doth purify the golden honey, thy perfume, Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs Revives the milked cow, & tames the fire-breathing steed. But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun: I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place. Queen of the vales the Lilly answerd, ask the tender cloud, And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky, And why it scatters its bright beauty thro' the humid air. Descend O little cloud & hover before the eyes of Thel. The Cloud descended, and the Lilly bowd her modest head: And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass. PLATE 3 II. O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee tell to me, Why thou complainest not when in one hour thou fade away: Then we shall seek thee but not find; ah Thel is like to thee. I pass away. yet I complain, and no one hears my voice. The Cloud then shew'd his golden bead & his bright form emerg'd, Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel. O virgin know'st thou not. our steeds drink of the golden springs Where Luvah doth renew his horses: look'st thou on my youth, - 4 - And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more. Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away, It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy: Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers; And court the fair eyed dew. to take me to her shining tent; The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun, Till we arise link'd in a golden band, and never part; But walk united, bearing food to all our tender flowers Dost thou O little Cloud? I fear that I am not like thee; For I walk through the vales of Har. and smell the sweetest flowers; But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling birds, But I feed not the warbling birds. they fly and seek their food; But Thel delights in these no more because I fade away, And all shall say, without a use this shining woman liv'd, Or did she only live. to be at death the food of worms. The Cloud reclind upon his airy throne and answer'd thus. Then if thou art the food of worms. O virgin of the skies, How great thy use. how great thy blessing; every thing that lives, Lives not alone, nor for itself: fear not and I will call The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice. Come forth worm of the silent valley, to thy pensive queen. The helpless worm arose, and sat upon the Lillys leaf, And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale. PLATE 4 Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed. Art thou a Worm? image of weakness. art thou but a Worm? I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lillys leaf: Ah weep not little voice, thou can'st not speak. but thou can'st weep; Is this a Worm? I see thee lay helpless & naked: weeping, And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles. The Clod of Clay heard the Worms voice, & raisd her pitying head; She bowd over the weeping infant, and her life exhal'd In milky fondness, then on Thel she fix'd her humble eyes. O beauty of the vales of Har. we live not for ourselves, Thou seest me the meanest thing, and so I am indeed; My bosom of itself is cold. and of itself is dark, PLATE 5 But he that loves the lowly, pours his oil upon my head. And kisses me, and binds his nuptial bands around my breast. And says; Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee. And I have given thee a crown that none can take away But how this is sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know, I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love. The daughter of beauty wip'd her pitying tears with her white veil, And said. Alas! I knew not this, and therefore did I weep: That God would love a Worm I knew, and punish the evil foot That wilful, bruis'd its helpless form: but that he cherish'd it With milk and oil, I never knew; and therefore did I weep, And I complaind in the mild air, because I fade away, And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot. Queen of the vales, the matron Clay answerd; I heard thy sighs. And all thy moans flew o'er my roof. but I have call'd them down: Wilt thou O Queen enter my house. 'tis given thee to enter, And to return; fear nothing. enter with thy virgin feet. PLATE 6 IV. The eternal gates terrific porter lifted the northern bar: Thel enter'd in & saw the secrets of the land unknown; She saw the couches of the dead, & where the fibrous roots Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists: A land of sorrows & of tears where never smile was seen. She wanderd in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, listning Dolours & lamentations: waiting oft beside a dewy grave She stood in silence. listning to the voices of the ground, Till to her own grave plot she came, & there she sat down. And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit. Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction? Or the glistning Eye to the poison of a smile! Why are Eyelids stord with arrows ready drawn, Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie? Or an Eye of gifts & graces, show'ring fruits & coined gold! Why a Tongue impress'd with honey from every wind? Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in? Why a Nostril wide inhaling terror trembling & affright. Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy! Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire? The Virgin started from her seat, & with a shriek. Fled back unhinderd till she came into the vales of Har The End VISIONS of the Daughters of Albion The Eye sees more than the Heart knows. Printed by Will:m Blake: 1793. PLATE iii The Argument I loved Theotormon And I was not ashamed I trembled in my virgin fears And I hid in Leutha's vale! I plucked Leutha's flower, And I rose up from the vale; But the terrible thunders tore My virgin mantle in twain. PLATE 1 Visions ENSLAV'D, the Daughters of Albion weep: a trembling lamentation Upon their mountains; in their valleys. sighs toward America. For the soft soul of America, Oothoon wanderd in woe, Along the vales of Leutha seeking flowers to comfort her; And thus she spoke to the bright Marygold of Leutha's vale - 45 - Art thou a flower! art thou a nymph! I see thee now a flower; Now a nymph! I dare not pluck thee from thy dewy bed! The Golden nymph replied; pluck thou my flower Oothoon the mild Another flower shall spring, because the soul of sweet delight Can never pass away. she ceas'd & closd her golden shrine. Then Oothoon pluck'd the flower saying, I pluck thee from thy bed Sweet flower. and put thee here to glow between my breasts And thus I turn my face to where my whole soul seeks. Over the waves she went in wing'd exulting swift delight; And over Theotormons reign, took her impetuous course. Bromion rent her with his thunders. on his stormy bed Lay the faint maid, and soon her woes appalld his thunders hoarse Bromion spoke. behold this harlot here on Bromions bed, And let the jealous dolphins sport around the lovely maid; Thy soft American plains are mine, and mine thy north & south: Stampt with my signet are the swarthy children of the sun: They are obedient, they resist not, they obey the scourge: Their daughters worship terrors and obey the violent: PLATE 2 Now thou maist marry Bromions harlot, and protect the child Of Bromions rage, that Oothoon shall put forth in nine moons time Then storms rent Theotormons limbs; he rolld his waves around. And folded his black jealous waters round the adulterate pair Bound back to back in Bromions caves terror & meekness dwell At entrance Theotormon sits wearing the threshold hard With secret tears; beneath him sound like waves on a desart shore The voice of slaves beneath the sun, and children bought with money. That shiver in religious caves beneath the burning fires Of lust, that belch incessant from the summits of the earth Oothoon weeps not: she cannot weep! her tears are locked up; But she can howl incessant writhing her soft snowy limbs. And calling Theotormons Eagles to prey upon her flesh. I call with holy voice! kings of the sounding air, Rend away this defiled bosom that I may reflect. The image of Theotormon on my pure transparent breast. The Eagles at her call descend & rend their bleeding prey; Theotormon severely smiles. her soul reflects the smile; As the clear spring mudded with feet of beasts grows pure & smiles. The Daughters of Albion hear her woes. & eccho back her sighs. Why does my Theotormon sit weeping upon the threshold; And Oothoon hovers by his side, perswading him in vain: I cry arise O Theotormon for the village dog Barks at the breaking day. the nightingale has done lamenting. The lark does rustle in the ripe corn, and the Eagle returns From nightly prey, and lifts his golden beak to the pure east; Shaking the dust from his immortal pinions to awake The sun that sleeps too long. Arise my Theotormon I am pure. Because the night is gone that clos'd me in its deadly black. They told me that the night & day were all that I could see; They told me that I had five senses to inclose me up. And they inclos'd my infinite brain into a narrow circle, And sunk my heart into the Abyss, a red round globe hot burning Till all from life I was obliterated and erased. Instead of morn arises a bright shadow, like an eye In the eastern cloud: instead of night a sickly charnel house; That Theotormon hears me not! to him the night and morn Are both alike: a night of sighs, a morning of fresh tears; PLATE 3 And none but Bromion can hear my lamentations. With what sense is it that the chicken shuns the ravenous hawk? With what sense does the tame pigeon measure out the expanse? With what sense does the bee form cells? have not the mouse & frog Eyes and ears and sense of touch? yet are their habitations. And their pursuits, as different as their forms and as their joys: Ask the wild ass why he refuses burdens: and the meek camel Why he loves man: is it because of eye ear mouth or skin Or breathing nostrils? No. for these the wolf and tyger have. Ask the blind worm the secrets of the grave, and why her spires Love to curl round the bones of death; and ask the rav'nous snake Where she gets poison: & the wing'd eagle why he loves the sun And then tell me the thoughts of man, that have been hid of old. Silent I hover all the night, and all day could be silent. If Theotormon once would turn his loved eyes upon me; How can I be defild when I reflect thy image pure? Sweetest the fruit that the worm feeds on. & the soul prey'd on by woe The new wash'd lamb ting'd with the village smoke & the bright swan By the red earth of our immortal river: I bathe my wings. And I am white and pure to hover round Theotormons breast. Then Theotormon broke his silence. and he answered. Tell me what is the night or day to one o'erflowd with woe? Tell me what is a thought? & of what substance is it made? Tell me what is a joy? & in what gardens do joys grow? And in what rivers swim the sorrows? and upon what mountains PLATE 4 Wave shadows of discontent? and in what houses dwell the wretched Drunken with woe forgotten. and shut up from cold despair. Tell me where dwell the thoughts forgotten till thou call them forth Tell me where dwell the joys of old! & where the ancient loves? And when will they renew again & the night of oblivion past? That I might traverse times & spaces far remote and bring Comforts into a present sorrow and a night of pain Where goest thou O thought? to what remote land is thy flight? If thou returnest to the present moment of affliction Wilt thou bring comforts on thy wings. and dews and honey and balm; Or poison from the desart wilds, from the eyes of the envier. Then Bromion said: and shook the cavern with his lamentation Thou knowest that the ancient trees seen by thine eyes have fruit; But knowest thou that trees and fruits flourish upon the earth To gratify senses unknown? trees beasts and birds unknown: Unknown, not unpercievd, spread in the infinite microscope, In places yet unvisited by the voyager. and in worlds Over another kind of seas, and in atmospheres unknown: Ah! are there other wars, beside the wars of sword and fire! And are there other sorrows, beside the sorrows of poverty! And are there other joys, beside the joys of riches and ease? And is there not one law for both the lion and the ox? And is there not eternal fire, and eternal chains? To bind the phantoms of existence from eternal life? Then Oothoon waited silent all the day. and all the night, PLATE 5 But when the morn arose, her lamentation renewd, The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, & eccho back her sighs. O Urizen! Creator of men! Mistaken Demon of heaven: Thy joys are tears! thy labour vain, to form men to thine image. How can one joy absorb another? are not different joys Holy, eternal, infinite! and each joy is a Love. Does not the great mouth laugh at a gift? & the narrow eyelids mock At the labour that is above payment, and wilt thou take the ape For thy councellor? or the dog, for a schoolmaster to thy children? Does he who contemns poverty, and he who turns with abhorrence From usury: feel the same passion or are they moved alike? How can the giver of gifts experience the delights of the merchant? How the industrious citizen the pains of the husbandman. How different far the fat fed hireling with hollow drum; Who buys whole corn fields into wastes, and sings upon the heath: How different their eye and ear! how different the world to them! With what sense does the parson claim the labour of the farmer? What are his nets & gins & traps. & how does he surround him With cold floods of abstraction, and with forests of solitude, To build him castles and high spires. where kings & priests may dwell. Till she who burns with youth. and knows no fixed lot; is bound In spells of law to one she loaths: and must she drag the chain Of life, in weary lust! must chilling murderous thoughts. obscure The clear heaven of her eternal spring? to bear the wintry rage Of a harsh terror driv'n to madness, bound to hold a rod Over her shrinking shoulders all the day; & all the night To turn the wheel of false desire: and longings that wake her womb To the abhorred birth of cherubs in the human form That live a pestilence & die a meteor & are no more. Till the child dwell with one he hates. and do the deed he loaths And the impure scourge force his seed into its unripe birth E'er yet his eyelids can behold the arrows of the day. Does the whale worship at thy footsteps as the hungry dog? Or does he scent the mountain prey, because his nostrils wide Draw in the ocean? does his eye discern the flying cloud As the ravens eye? or does he measure the expanse like the vulture? Does the still spider view the cliffs where eagles hide their young? Or does the fly rejoice. because the harvest is brought in? Does not the eagle scorn the earth & despise the treasures beneath? But the mole knoweth what is there, & the worm shall tell it thee. Does not the worm erect a pillar in the mouldering church yard? PLATE 6 And a palace of eternity in the jaws of the hungry grave Over his porch these words are written. Take thy bliss O Man! And sweet shall be thy taste & sweet thy infant joys renew! Infancy, fearless, lustful, happy! nestling for delight In laps of pleasure; Innocence! honest, open, seeking The vigorous joys of morning light; open to virgin bliss. Who taught thee modesty, subtil modesty! child of night & sleep When thou awakest, wilt thou dissemble all thy secret joys Or wert thou not awake when all this mystery was disclos'd! Then com'st thou forth a modest virgin knowing to dissemble With nets found under thy night pillow, to catch virgin joy, And brand it with the name of whore; & sell it in the night, In silence. ev'n without a whisper, and in seeming sleep: Religious dreams and holy vespers, light thy smoky fires: Once were thy fires lighted by the eyes of honest morn And does my Theotormon seek this hypocrite modesty! This knowing, artful, secret, fearful, cautious, trembling hypocrite. Then is Oothoon a whore indeed! and all the virgin joys Of life are harlots: and Theotormon is a sick mans dream And Oothoon is the crafty slave of selfish holiness. But Oothoon is not so, a virgin fill'd with virgin fancies Open to joy and to delight where ever beauty appears If in the morning sun I find it: there my eyes are fix'd PLATE 7 In happy copulation; if in evening mild. wearied with work; Sit on a bank and draw the pleasures of this free born joy. The moment of desire! the moment of desire! The virgin That pines for man; shall awaken her womb to enormous joys In the secret shadows of her chamber; the youth shut up from The lustful joy. shall forget to generate. & create an amorous image In the shadows of his curtains and in the folds of his silent pillow. Are not these the places of religion? the rewards of continence? The self enjoyings of self denial? Why dost thou seek religion? Is it because acts are not lovely, that thou seekest solitude, Where the horrible darkness is impressed with reflections of desire. Father of jealousy. be thou accursed from the earth! Why hast thou taught my Theotormon this accursed thing? Till beauty fades from off my shoulders darken'd and cast out, A solitary shadow wailing on the margin of non-entity. I cry, Love! Love! Love! happy happy Love! free as the mountain wind! Can that be Love, that drinks another as a sponge drinks water? That clouds with jealousy his nights, with weepings all the day: To spin a web of age around him. grey and hoary! dark! Till his eyes sicken at the fruit that hangs before his sight. Such is self-love that envies all! a creeping skeleton With lamplike eyes watching around the frozen marriage bed. But silken nets and traps of adamant will Oothoon spread, And catch for thee girls of mild silver, or of furious gold; I'll lie beside thee on a bank & view their wanton play In lovely copulation bliss on bliss with Theotormon: Red as the rosy morning, lustful as the first born beam, Oothoon shall view his dear delight, nor e'er with jealous cloud Come in the heaven of generous love; nor selfish blightings bring. Does the sun walk in glorious raiment. on the secret floor PLATE 8 Where the cold miser spreads his gold? or does the bright cloud drop On his stone threshold? does his eye behold the beam that brings Expansion to the eye of pity? or will he bind himself Beside the ox to thy hard furrow? does not that mild beam blot The bat, the owl, the glowing tyger, and the king of night. The sea fowl takes the wintry blast. for a cov'ring to her limbs: And the wild snake, the pestilence to adorn him with gems & gold. And trees. & birds. & beasts. & men. behold their eternal joy. Arise you little glancing wings, and sing your infant joy! Arise and drink your bliss, for every thing that lives is holy! Thus every morning wails Oothoon. but Theotormon sits Upon the margind ocean conversing with shadows dire. The Daughters of Albion hear her woes, & eccho back her sighs. The End The Mental Traveller I traveld thro' a Land of Men A Land of Men & Women too And heard & saw such dreadful things As cold Earth wanderers never knew For there the Babe is born in joy That was begotten in dire woe Just as we Reap in joy the fruit Which we in bitter tears did sow And if the Babe is born a Boy He's given to a Woman Old Who nails him down upon a rock Catches his Shrieks in Cups of gold She binds iron thorns around his head She pierces both his hands & feet She cuts his heart out at his side To make it feel both cold & heat Her fingers number every Nerve just as a Miser counts his gold She lives upon his shrieks & cries And She grows young as he grows old Till he becomes a bleeding youth And she becomes a Virgin bright Then he rends up his Manacles And binds her down for his delight He plants himself in all her Nerves Just as a Husbandman his mould And She becomes his dwelling place And Garden fruitful Seventy fold An aged Shadow soon he fades Wandring round an Earthly Cot Full filled all with gems & gold Which he by industry had got And these are the gems of the Human Soul The rubies & pearls of a lovesick eye The countless gold of the akeing heart The martyrs groan & the lovers sigh They are his meat they are his drink He feeds the Beggar & the Poor And the way faring Traveller For ever open is his door His grief is their eternal joy They make the roofs & walls to ring Till from the fire on the hearth A little Female Babe does spring And she is all of solid fire And gems & gold that none his hand Dares stretch to touch her Baby form Or wrap her in his swaddling-band But She comes to the Man she loves If young or old or rich or poor They soon drive out the aged Host A Begger at anothers door He wanders weeping far away Untill some other take him in Oft blind & age-bent sore distrest Untill he can a Maiden win And to Allay his freezing Age The Poor Man takes her in his arms The Cottage fades before his Sight The Garden & its lovely Charms The Guests are scatterd thro' the land For the Eye altering alters all The Senses roll themselves in fear And the flat Earth becomes a Ball The Stars Sun Moon all shrink away A desart vast without a bound And nothing left to eat or drink And a dark desart all around The honey of her Infant lips The bread & wine of her sweet smile The wild game of her roving Eye Does him to Infancy beguile For as he eats & drinks he grows Younger & younger every day And on the desart wild they both Wander in terror & dismay Like the wild Stag she flees away Her fear plants many a thicket wild While he pursues her night & day By various arts of Love beguild By various arts of Love & Hate Till the wide desart planted oer With Labyrinths of wayward Love Where roams the Lion Wolf & Boar Till he becomes a wayward Babe And she a weeping Woman Old Then many a Lover wanders here The Sun & Stars are nearer rolld The trees bring forth sweet Extacy To all who in the desart roam Till many a City there is Built And many a pleasant Shepherds home But when they find the frowning Babe Terror strikes thro the region wide They cry the Babe the Babe is Born And flee away on Every side For who dare touch the frowning form His arm is witherd to its root Lions Boars Wolves all howling flee And every Tree does shed its fruit And none can touch that frowning form Except it be a Woman Old She nails him down upon the Rock And all is done as I have told To Nobodaddy Why art thou silent & invisible Father of jealousy Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds From every searching Eye Why darkness & obscurity In all thy words & laws That none dare eat the fruit but from The wily serpents jaws Or is it because Secresy gains females loud applause * Are not the joys of morning sweeter Than the joys of night And are the vigrous joys of youth Ashamed of the light Let age & sickness silent rob The vineyards in the night But those who burn with vigrous youth Pluck fruits before the light * How came pride in Man From Mary it began How Contempt & Scorn What a world is Man His Earth The Crystal Cabinet The Maiden caught me in the Wild Where I was dancing merrily She put me into her Cabinet And Lockd me up with a golden Key This Cabinet is formd of Gold And Pearl & Crystal shining bright And within it opens into a World And a little lovely Moony Night Another England there I saw Another London with its Tower Another Thames & other Hills And another pleasant Surrey Bower Another Maiden like herself Translucent lovely shining clear Threefold each in the other closd O what a pleasant trembling fear O what a smile a threefold Smile Filld me that like a flame I burnd I bent to Kiss the lovely Maid And found a Threefold Kiss returnd I strove to sieze the inmost Form With ardor fierce & hands of flame But burst the Crystal Cabinet And like a Weeping Babe became A weeping Babe upon the wild And Weeping Woman pale reclind And in the outward air again I filld with woes the passing Wind