William Blake, the poet

[Little Miss Misfit]

Anyone know anything about the really William Blake?
He was meantioned in my history book...I'll have to write it in here...

[The Rolling Rooster]

No...
but once I finish this paper I'll do some research and post back here for everyone!

[Piratesmeeper]

Alrighty...I looked up some information for you guys:

William Blake
Birthdate: November 28, 1757
Death: August 12, 1827

English poet, painter, engraver; one of the earliest and greatest figures of Romanticism. The most famous of Blake's lyrical poems is Auguries of Innocence, with its memorable opening stanza:

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.

"I do not behold the outward creation... it is a hindrance and not action." Thus William Blake--painter, engraver, and poet--explained why his work was filled with religious visions rather than with subjects from everyday life. Few people in his time realized that Blake expressed these visions with a talent that approached genius. He lived in near poverty and died unrecognized. Today, however, Blake is acclaimed one of England's great figures of art and literature and one of the most inspired and original painters of his time.

Blake was born on Nov. 28, 1757, in London. His father ran a hosiery shop. William, the third of five children, went to school only long enough to learn to read and write, and then he worked in the shop until he was 14. When he saw the boy's talent for drawing, Blake's father apprenticed him to an engraver.

At 25 Blake married Catherine Boucher. He taught her to read and write and to help him in his work. They had no children. They worked together to produce an edition of Blake's poems and drawings, called Songs of Innocence. Blake engraved both words and pictures on copper printing plates. Catherine made the printing impressions, hand-colored the pictures, and bound the books. The books sold slowly, for a few shillings each. Today a single copy is worth many thousands of dollars.

Blake's fame as an artist and engraver rests largely on a set of 21 copperplate etchings to illustrate the Book of Job in the Old Testament. However, he did much work for which other artists and engravers got the credit. Blake was a poor businessman, and he preferred to work on subjects of his own choice rather than on those that publishers assigned him.

A follower of Emanuel Swedenborg, who offered a gentle and mystic interpretation of Christianity, Blake wrote poetry that largely reflects Swedenborgian views. Songs of Innocence (1789) shows life as it seems to innocent children. Songs of Experience (1794) tells of a mature person's realization of pain and terror in the universe. This book contains his famous `Tiger! Tiger! Burning Bright'. Milton (1804-08) and Jerusalem (1804-20) are longer and more obscure works. Blake died on Aug. 12, 1827.

OK this is all compliments of www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/blake/

There's some of his poems on there too...I think they have pictures of his paintings too.

There you go!

[Little Miss Misfit]

Very cool PW~!

[The Rolling Rooster]

wow...that's a ton of info.
You beat me to it PW... thanks for informing me!

[The Innocent Outlaw]

What a great idea to start a thread about the actual William Blake! Well done great info too we will have to add some of this poems aswell.

[The Innocent Outlaw]

Finally got round to updating this thread with some poems! Im actually studying alot of his work in Englsih at the moment aswell.

These are two of his more famous poems:

SONGS OF INNOCENCE

by: William Blake (1757-1827)

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of peasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he, laughing, said to me:

'Pipe a song about a lamb!'
So I piped with merry cheer.
'Piper, pipe that song again;'
So I piped: he wept to hear.

'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

'Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.'
So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

THE TIGER

by: William Blake (1757-1827)

Tiger, tiger, 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 and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and 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?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


What do you think?

[The Whimsical Writer]

Tiger, tiger poem is a great English classic. Blake also wrote many of the songs sung in English churches so there is a definite link between that & the religious aspects of this film. I shall have to brush up on Blake but feel the more you read his work & possibly his paintings the more the film will mean. I suspect Johnny knew all this. I have always felt that this film sums up some of Blakes most famous work: Sings of Innocence & Experience because in the film he starts off innocent in so many ways & ends up with experience on so many levels. Where does Johnny find the time to learn so much, makes me wonder if he should be president or something!!!

[The Poetic Protégée]

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.

I adore that poem. Aren't they just the most wonderful four lines of English you have ever read in your life? *sighs*

And 'The Tiger' is such a classic. I always feel inspired when I read anything by William Blake. He really was such a genius.

[The Innocent Outlaw]

Wow i had never read those lines before but they sure are beautiful

[kari]

I think some of his poems are really awesome. Ya, the tiger's a classic. I like most of his poems

Auguries of Innocence

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 redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-smeepclipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and 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, and roar
Are waves that beat 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 and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's 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 Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and 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 smeeper and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
[glow=red,2,300]Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.[/glow]We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and 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.


His poetry

A Poison Tree
And Did Those Feet in Ancient Time
Auguries of Innocence
Holy Thursday
Infant Sorrow
Introduction to Songs of Innocence
Love's Secret
Songs of Experience-My Pretty Rose-Tree
Songs of Experience-The Fly
Songs of Experience-The Sunflower
Songs of Innocence-Night
Songs of Innocence-The Chimney Sweeper
Songs of Innocence-The Little Black Boy
Songs of Innocence-The Schoolboy
Songs of Innocence-The Shepherd
The Chimney Sweeper
The Clod and the Pebble
The Garden of Love
The Lamb
The Land of Dreams
The Sick Rose
The Tiger

[Angevin]

You are one VERY lucky angel, IO. ;D I love William Blake, and I loved Johnny playing him. The movie is a masterpiece. Definetly in my top 5.

Blake's poetry is astounding and beautiful. I read it often. Thanks for that last one, Kari. I don't think I had ALL of it!

[bohemian]

I once had to do a project on William Blake for Brit Lit class... it was actually a lot of fun. I got to share his poetry and drawings with the class.