William Blake

Rambling on about William Blake, he [i]was[/i] seen as a bit of a nutter during his lifetime. I'd like to be thought of as such a nutter myself.......hey, come to think of it....

Anyway, he wrote some pretty deep poems, very turgid most of them, though some passages have a certain ring. But it is his lyrical poems, often short, that I particularly love, especially the "Songs of Innocence and Experience" [i]showing the two contrary states of the human soul[/i].

Each song of innocence has its counterpart. For instance, The Lamb (innocence) and the Tyger (experience)

[i]Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee

Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb I'll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
[/i]

Innocence indeed!

And "The Tyger"....

[i]Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
[b]Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
[/b]
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
[/i]

Experience indeed! With one relevant line highlighted.

Other poems, other contrasts. One couple, of innocence and experience, has often grabbed me, the ones both called "Holy Thursday".

It was the custom in Blake's day (the early 19th century) for the children of the poor house to be paraded through the streets and taken to a carol service at St Pauls. The "good people" of the time would shepard them, taking pride in their own benevolence and charity. Blake captures it well, the "innocence" of it all.

And here is "Holy Thursday", Blake's song of experience, a simply lyrical poem, yet a cry almost of rage....

[i]Is this a holy thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reduced to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns.
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine,
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.[/i]


Still relevant today of course.

But as I say, Blake was a nutter.