Spring, by William Blake
Sound the flute!
Now it's mute!
Bird's deligh...
Sound the flute!
Now it's mute!
Bird's deligh...
1 And Aged Tiriel. Stood before the Gates of ...
Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Now, ...
The Argument I lovè d Theotormon,
An...
The hay-barn could tell many a story;
resplen...
That impish look – dripping wet
from you...
There, on the veranda,
in the green light,
...
For my sixth birthday
I wanted a doll; instead...
Shades her eyes from the sun;
growing weaker ...
Splashes of umber –
hints of Prussian B...
This Rome, that was the toil of many men,
Th...
From regions of the sun's half-dreamt decay,
...
For ten years I never left my books;
I went u...
To Yuan Chen [A.D. 810] The flower of the pear...
A.D. 815 At the rise of summer a hundred beast...
A.D. 811 In waters still as a burnished mirror...
A.D. 806 The crane from the shore standing at ...
When the sun rose I was still lying in bed;
A...
Around my garden the little wall is low;
In t...
My clumsy poem on the inn-wall none cared to se...
A.D. 815 Since I lived a stranger in the City ...
A.D. 822 We had rode long and were still far f...
I dismount from my horse at the Hsi-lin Temple;...
A.D. 812 My house is poor; those that I love h...
A warrior bold,
In Ho Sai old;
Alas! But no...