Random poetry post

[skull_bearer]

The Garden of Love
William Blake

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires. 

I'm one of those crazy people who actually likes studying poetry. I studied William Blake in sixth form, and still read it. This is one of my favs.

Comments

[skull-bearer.livejournal.com]

I'm really not fussy about poetry. I can read a Ted Hughs as well as a Wordsworth, all it needs is that *spark* you get in poems. And if it doesn't have that spark, it's generally not published (except for the lamantably exception of Philip Larkin *hates*)

You'd like William Blake. Look up his 'Songs of Innocence and Experience' on the net. I think you'd like the 'experience' part.