To Morning

O holy virgin! clad in purest white,
Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth;
Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day.
O radiant morning, salute the sun
Rous'd like a huntsman to the chase, and with
Thy buskin'd feet appear upon our hills.

William Blake

William Blake was an English poet, painter, and printmaker, who is considered one of the seminal figures in the history of poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age. Born in London, Blake was largely unrecognized during his lifetime but is now renowned for his expressive and mystical works that blend poetic and visual art. His notable works include 'Songs of Innocence and Experience' and 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell'. His unique creative vision and philosophical outlook have influenced numerous artists and thinkers since his death.

William Blake

To Tirzah

William Blake, Simple Poetry

The Sick Rose

William Blake, Simple Poetry

Song: Memory, Hither Come

William Blake, Simple Poetry

Song

William Blake, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To Spring

O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

The hills tell each other, and the listening
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.

William Blake

To The Evening Star

Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wing sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares through the dun forest.
The fleeces of our flocks are covered with
Thy sacred dew; protect with them with thine influence.

William Blake

Day

The Sun arises in the East,
Cloth'd in robes of blood and gold;
Swords and spears and wrath increast
All around his bosom roll'd
Crown'd with warlike fires and raging desires.

William Blake

England! Awake! Awake! Awake!

England! awake! awake! awake!
Jerusalem thy Sister calls!
Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death
And close her from thy ancient walls?

Thy hills and valleys felt her feet
Gently upon their bosoms move:
Thy gates beheld sweet Zion's ways:
Then was a time of joy and love.

And now the time returns again:
Our souls exult, and London's towers
Receive the Lamb of God to dwell
In England's green and pleasant bowers.

William Blake

Night

The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
Where flocks have ta'en delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.

When wolv...

William Blake

Day-Break.

The red east glows, the dewy cheek of Day
Has not yet met the sun's o'erpowering smile;
The dew-drops in their beauty still are gay,
Save those the shepherd's early steps defile.
Pleas'd will I linger o'er the scene awhile;
The black clouds melt away, the larks awaken--
Sing, rising bird, and I will join with thee:
With day-break's beauties I have much been taken,
As thy first anthem breath'd its melody.
I've stood and paus'd the varied cloud to see,
And warm'd in ecstacy, and look'd and warm'd,
When day's first rays, the far hill top adorning,
Fring'd the blue clouds with gold: O doubly charm'd
I hung in raptures then on early Morning.

John Clare