The Complete Poems
            
            
            
   And Pearl & Crystal shining bright
   And within it opens into a World
   And a little lovely Moony Night
   Another England there I saw
   10 Another London with its Tower
   Another Thames & other Hills
   And another pleasant Surrey Bower
   Another Maiden like herself
   Translucent lovely shining clear
   Threefold each in the other closd
   O what a pleasant trembling fear
   O what a smile a threefold Smile
   Filld me that like a flame I burnd
   I bent to Kiss the lovely Maid
   20 And found a Threefold Kiss returnd
   I strove to sieze the inmost Form
   With ardor fierce & hands of flame
   But burst the Crystal Cabinet
   And like a Weeping Babe became
   A weeping Babe upon the wild
   And Weeping Woman pale reclind
   And in the outward air again
   I filld with woes the passing Wind
   THE GREY MONK
   I die I die the Mother said
   My Children die for lack of Bread
   What more has the merciless Tyrant said
   The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed
   The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side
   His hands & feet were wounded wide
   His Body bent his arms & knees
   Like to the roots of ancient trees
   His eye was dry no tear could flow
   10 A hollow groan first spoke his woe
   He trembled & shudderd upon the Bed
   At length with a feeble cry he said
   When God commanded this hand to write
   In the studious hours of deep midnight
   He told me the writing I wrote should prove
   The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd
   My Brother starvd between two Walls
   His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls
   I mockd at the wrack & griding chain
   20 My bent body mocks their torturing pain
   Thy Father drew his sword in the North
   With his thousands strong he marched forth
   Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel
   To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel
   But vain the Sword & vain the Bow
   They never can work Wars overthrow
   The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear
   Alone can free the World from fear
   For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing
   30 And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King
   And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe
   Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow
   The hand of Vengeance found the Bed
   To which the Purple Tyrant fled
   The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head
   And became a Tyrant in his stead
   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 Red breast in a Cage
   Puts all Heaven in a Rage
   A dove house filld with doves & Pigeons
   Shudders Hell thro all its regions
   A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
   10 Predicts the ruin of the State
   A Horse misusd 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 Cock clipd & armd for fight
   Does the Rising Sun affright
   Every Wolfs & Lions howl
   20 Raises from Hell a Human Soul
   The wild deer wandring here & there
   Keeps the Human Soul from Care
   The Lamb misusd breeds Public strife
   And yet forgives the Butchers Knife
   The Bat that flits at close of Eve
   Has left the Brain that wont Believe
   The Owl that calls upon the Night
   Speaks the Unbelievers fright
   He who shall hurt the little Wren
   30 Shall never be belovd by Men
   He who the Ox to wrath has movd
   Shall never be by Woman lovd
   The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
   Shall feel the Spiders enmity
   He who torments the Chafers sprite
   Weaves a Bower in endless Night
   The Catterpiller on the Leaf
   Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
   Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
   40 For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
   He who shall train the Horse to War
   Shall never pass the Polar Bar
   The Beggers Dog & Widows Cat
   Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
   The Gnat that sings his Summers song
   Poison gets from Slanders tongue
   The poison of the Snake & Newt
   Is the sweat of Envys Foot
   The Poison of the Honey Bee
   50 Is the Artists Jealousy
   The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
   Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
   A truth thats told with bad intent
   Beats all the Lies you can invent
   It is right it should be so
   Man was made for Joy & Woe
   And when this we rightly know
   Thro the World we safely go
   Joy & Woe are woven fine
   60 A Clothing for the Soul divine
   Under every grief & pine
   Runs a joy with silken twine
   The Babe is more than swadling Bands
   Throughout all these Human Lands
   Tools were made & Born were hands
   Every Farmer Understands
   Every Tear from Every Eye
   Becomes a Babe in Eternity
   This is caught by Females bright
   70 And returnd to its own delight
   The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
   Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
   The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
   Writes Revenge in realms of death
   The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
   Does to Rags the Heavens tear
   The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
   Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
   The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
   80 Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
   One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
   Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
   Or if protected from on high
   Does that whole Nation sell & buy
   He who mocks the Infants Faith
   Shall be mock’d in Age & Death
   He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
   The rotting Grave shall neer get out
   He who respects the Infants faith
   90 Triumphs over Hell & Death
   The Childs Toys & the Old Mans 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 Caesars Laurel Crown
   Nought can deform the Human Race
   100 Like to the Armours iron brace
   When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
   To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
   A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
   Is to Doubt a fit Reply
   The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
   Make Lame Philosophy to smile
   He who Doubts from what he sees
   Will neer Believe do what you Please
   If the Sun & Moon should doubt
   110 Theyd immediately Go out
   To be in a Passion you Good may do
   But no Good if a Passion  
					     					 			is in you
   The Whore & Gambler by the State
   Licencd build that Nations Fate
   The Harlots cry from Street to Street
   Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
   The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
   Dance before dead Englands Hearse
   Every Night & every Morn
   120 Some to Misery are Born
   Every Morn & every Night
   Some are Born to sweet delight
   Some are Born to sweet delight
   Some are Born to Endless Night
   We are led to Believe a Lie
   When we see [with] not Thro the Eye
   Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
   When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
   God Appears & God is Light
   130 To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
   But does a Human Form Display
   To those who Dwell in Realms of day
   LONG JOHN BROWN & LITTLE MARY BELL
   [Pretty] Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in a Nut
   [Young] Long John Brown had the Devil in his Gut
   [Young] Long John Brown lovd [Pretty] Little Mary Bell
   And the Fairy drew the Devil into the Nut-shell
   Her Fairy skipd out & her Fairy skipd in
   He laughd at the devil saying Love is a Sin
   The devil he raged & the devil he was wroth
   And the devil enterd into the Young Mans broth
   He was soon in the Gut of the loving Young Swain
   10 For John eat & drank to drive away Loves pain
   But all he could do he grew thinner & thinner
   Tho he eat & drank as much as ten Men for his dinner
   Some said he had a Wolf in his stomach day & night
   Some said he had the devil & they guessd right
   The fairy skipd about in his glory Joy & Pride
   And he laughd at the devil till poor John Brown died
   Then the Fairy skipd out of the old Nut shell
   And woe & alack for Pretty Mary Bell
   For the Devil crept in when the Fairy skipd out
   20 And there goes Miss Bell with her fusty old Nut
   WILLIAM BOND
   I wonder whether the Girls are mad
   And I wonder whether they mean to kill
   And I wonder if William Bond will die
   For assuredly he is very ill
   He went to Church in a May morning
   Attended by Fairies one two & three
   But the Angels of Providence drove them away
   And he returnd home in Misery
   He went not out to the Field nor Fold
   10 He went not out to the Village nor Town
   But he came home in a black black Cloud
   And took to his Bed & there lay down
   And an Angel of Providence at his Feet
   And an Angel of Providence at his Head
   And in the midst a Black Black Cloud
   And in the midst the Sick Man on his Bed
   And on his Right hand was Mary Green
   And on his Left hand was his Sister Jane
   And their tears fell thro the black black Cloud
   20 To drive away the sick mans pain
   O William if thou dost another Love
   Dost another Love better than poor Mary
   Go & take that other to be thy Wife
   And Mary Green shall her Servant be
   Yes Mary I do another Love
   Another I Love far better than thee
   And Another I will have for my Wife
   Then what have I to do with thee
   For thou art Melancholy Pale
   30 And on thy Head is the cold Moons shine
   But she is ruddy & bright as day
   And the sun beams dazzle from her eyne
   Mary trembled & Mary chilld
   And Mary fell down on the right hand floor
   That William Bond & his Sister Jane
   Scarce could recover Mary more
   When Mary woke & found her Laid
   On the Right hand of her William dear
   On the Right hand of his loved Bed
   40 And saw her William Bond so near
   The Fairies that fled from William Bond
   Danced around her Shining Head
   They danced over the Pillow white
   And the Angels of Providence left the Bed
   I thought Love livd in the hot sun shine
   But O he lives in the Moony light
   I thought to find Love in the heat of day
   But sweet Love is the Comforter of Night
   Seek Love in the Pity of others Woe
   50 In the gentle relief of anothers care
   In the darkness of night & the winters snow
   In the naked & outcast Seek Love there
   MILTON
   a Poem in 2 Books
   To Justify the Ways of God to Men
   PLATE 1
   PREFACE
   The Stolen and Perverted Writings of Homer & Ovid: of Plato & Cicero. which all Men ought to contemn: are set up by artifice against the Sublime of the Bible. but when the New Age is at leisure to Pronounce: all will be set right: & those Grand Works of the more ancient & consciously & professedly Inspired Men, will hold their proper rank, & the Daughters of Memory shall become the Daughters of Inspiration. Shakspeare & Milton were both curbd by the general malady & infection from the
   10 silly Greek & Latin slaves of the Sword.
   Rouze up O Young Men of the New Age! set your foreheads against the ignorant Hirelings! For we have Hirelings in the Camp, the Court & the University: who would if they could, for ever depress Mental & prolong Corporeal War. Painters! on you I call! Sculptors! Architects! Suffer not the fash[i]onable Fools to depress your powers by the prices they pretend to give for contemptible works or the expensive advertizing boasts that they make of such works; believe Christ & his Apostles that there is a Class of Men whose whole delight is in Destroying.
   20 We do not want either Greek or Roman Models if we are but just & true
   to our own Imaginations, those Worlds of Eternity in which we shall live for ever; in Jesus our Lord.
   And did those feet in ancient time.
   Walk upon Englands mountains green:
   And was the holy Lamb of God,
   On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
   And did the Countenance Divine,
   Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
   And was Jerusalem builded here,
   Among these dark Satanic Mills?
   Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
   10 Bring me my Arrows of desire:
   Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
   Bring me my Chariot of fire!
   I will not cease from Mental Fight,
   Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
   Till we have built Jerusalem,
   In Englands green & pleasant Land.
   Would to God that all the Lords people were Prophets.
   Numbers XI. ch 29 v.
   PLATE 2
   MILTON
   BOOK THE FIRST
   Daughters of Beulah! Muses who inspire the Poets Song
   Record the journey of immortal Milton thro’ your Realms
   Of terror & mild moony lustre, in soft sexual delusions
   Of varied beauty, to delight the wanderer and repose
   His burning thirst & freezing hunger! Come into my hand
   By your mild power; descending down the Nerves of my right arm
   From out the Portals of my Brain, where by your ministry
   The Eternal Great Humanity Divine, planted his Paradise,
   And in it caus’d the Spectres of the Dead to take sweet forms
   10 In likeness of himself. Tell also of the False Tongue! vegetated
   Beneath your land of shadows: of its sacrifices. and
   Its offerings; even till Jesus, the image of the Invisible God
   Became its prey; a curse, an offering, and an atonement,
   For Death Et 
					     					 			ernal in the heavens of Albion, & before the Gates
   Of Jerusalem his Emanation, in the heavens beneath Beulah
   Say first! what mov’d Milton, who walkd about in Eternity
   One hundred years, pondring the intricate mazes of Providence
   Unhappy tho in heav’n, he obey’d, he murmur’d not. he was silent
   Viewing his Sixfold Emanation scatter’d thro’ the deep
   20 In torment! To go into the deep her to redeem & himself perish?
   What cause at length mov’d Milton to this unexampled deed?
   A Bards prophetic Song! for sitting at eternal tables, Terrific among the Sons of Albion in chorus solemn & loud
   A Bard broke forth! all sat attentive to the awful man.
   Mark well my words! they are of your eternal salvation:
   Three Classes are Created by the Hammer of Los, & Woven
   PLATE 3
   By Enitharmons Looms when Albion was slain upon his Mountains
   And in his Tent, thro envy of Living Form, even of the Divine Vision
   And of the sports of Wisdom in the Human Imagination
   Which is the Divine Body of the Lord Jesus. blessed for ever.
   Mark well my words. they are of your eternal salvation:
   Urizen lay in darkness & solitude, in chains of the mind lock’d up
   Los siezd his Hammer & Tongs; he labourd at his resolute Anvil
   Among indefinite Druid rocks & snows of doubt & reasoning.
   Refusing all Definite Form, the Abstract Horror roofd. stony hard
   10 And a first Age passed over & a State of dismal woe:
   Down sunk with fright a red round Globe hot burning. deep
   Deep down into the Abyss. panting: conglobing: trembling
   And a second Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.
   Rolling round into two little Orbs & closed in two little Caves
   The Eyes beheld the Abyss: lest bones of solidness freeze over all
   And a third Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.
   From beneath his Orbs of Vision, Two Ears in close volutions
   Shot spiring out in the deep darkness & petrified as they grew
   And a fourth Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.
   20 Hanging upon the wind, Two Nostrils bent down into the Deep
   And a fifth Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.
   In ghastly torment sick, a Tongue of hunger & thirst flamed out
   And a sixth Age passed over & a State of dismal woe.
   Enraged & stifled without & within: in terror & woe, he threw his
   Right Arm to the north, his left Arm to the south, & his Feet
   Stampd the nether Abyss in trembling & howling & dismay
   And a seventh Age passed over & a State of dismal woe