auguries of innocence William Blake

World shows its face in a Grain of Salt
Heaven is in a Wild Flower
Forever is in the palm of your hand
Eternity is ticking in a clock
A little blue bird is in the Cage
All the sky is in a Rage
A Dove is cooing
Hell is shaking
A dog is starving at his Master’s Gate
Predictions are being made
A Horse is running down the Road
the Rider Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each cry coming from a hunted Hare
the Brain drops a tear
the singing bird does not call with no winging  
Angels often stop their singing
fighting Cocks play their blood sport
frightening but the devil’s betting sport
Wolves & Lions howl
One Human Soul raises up from hell
The wild deer, roaming here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb abused brings Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
the lamb has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl calls throughout the Night
Calling the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be beloved by Men
He who, like the Ox, has lost his bull

Will never be by Woman loved
The one that kills the Fly
Will feel the Spider’s hatred
He who torments the  scarab’s fairy
Builds a Beautiful home in endless Night
The Caterpillar on the Leaf
Repeats to you your Mother’s grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the final Judgment is near
He who trains the Horse to War
Will feed the The Beggar’s Dog & the Widow’s Cat
till they grow fat
The tiny flea sings Summer’s tune
Poison comes from a liar’s tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Are the sweat dropping from Envys Foot
The poison from the stinger of the Honey Bee
Is an Artist’s Jealousy
The Prince’s Robes & Begger’s Rags
Are poisonous mushrooms on the stingy man’s Bag
A Truth that is told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is as it should be  
Man was made for joy and woe
Once we really get it
We travel through the World with
Joy & Woe are woven fine into
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & languishing moment
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 goat’s son the dog’s Bark  
Roaring Waves all Beating on Heaven’s Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggar’s Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armed with Sword & Gun
will tremble and shake in the Summer’s Sun
The poor Man’s penny is worth more
Than all the stocks in a rich man’s stock
One dime stolen from the Laborer’s hands
Will buy & sell the Miser’s Land
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infant’s Faith
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The lawyer who sits so sly
Will never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Snuffs the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
No one can Deform the Human Race
Like the Armors’ iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Chirp
Will Doubt each fit Reply
Philosophy is crippled to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will never Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
They would immediately Go out
To be in a Passion some Good you may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licensed build that Nation’s Fate
The prostitutes cry from Street to Street
Will work for wage on a winding Sheet
The Winner’s Shout the Loser’s Curse
Dance before the dead man’s Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish  
God Appears & God is Light


About m.a. wood

writer, thinker, musician, teacher
This entry was posted in death, erasure poem, finding, life, poem, poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to auguries of innocence William Blake

  1. amabear says:

    did you write that?


  2. m.a. wood says:

    I used a William Blake poem to model it after.


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