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