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William Blake

Song

MY silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By Love are driven away;
    And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.

His face is fair as heaven
    When springing buds unfold:
O why to him was 't given,
    Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is Love's all-worshipp'd tomb,
Where all Love's pilgrims come.

Bring me an axe and spade,
    Bring me a winding-sheet;
When I my grave have made,
    Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay:
True love doth pass away!

 
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About the poet
William Blake
 
By the same poet
The Tiger
To Spring
The Little Black Boy
Reeds of Innocence
To the Muses
Hear the Voice
Cradle Song
Night
Love's Secret
 
Related books
William Blake at amazon.com


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