Songs of Innocence, and Songs of Experience E-Book

William Blake

• Herausgeber: William Blake
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

William Blake (28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827) was an English poet, painter, and printmaker. He was a 19th-century writer and artist who is regarded as a seminal figure of the Romantic Age. His writings have influenced countless writers and artists through the ages, and he has been deemed both a major poet and an original thinker.

Leseprobe

William Blake

Songs of Innocence, and Songs of Experience

First digital edition 2017 by Anna Ruggieri

SONGS OF INNOCENCE

INTRODUCTION

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant 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 tohear.

‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!’So I sung 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 ahollow reed,

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

THE SHEPHERD

How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot!From the morn to the evening he strays;He shall follow his sheep all the day,And his tongue shall be fillèd with praise.

For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;He is watchful while they are in peace,For they know when their shepherd is nigh.

THE ECHOING GREEN

The sun does arise,And make happy the skies;The merry bells ringTo welcome the Spring;The skylark and thrush,The birds of the bush,Sing louder aroundTo the bells’ cheerful sound;While our sports shall be seenOn the echoing green.

Old John, with white hair,Does laugh away care,Sitting under the oak,Among the old folk.They laugh at our play,And soon they all say,‘Such, such were the joysWhen we all—girls and boys—In our youth-time were seenOn the echoing green.’

Till the little ones, weary,No more can be merry:The sun does descend,And our sports have an end.Round the laps of their mothersMany sisters and brothers,Like birds in their nest,Are ready for rest,And sport no more seenOn the darkening green.

THE LAMB

Little lamb, who made thee? Does thou know who made thee,Gave thee life, and bid thee feedBy the stream and o’er the mead;Gave thee clothing of delight,Softest clothing, woolly, bright;Gave thee such a tender voice,Making allthe vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Does thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I’ll tell thee; Little lamb, I’ll tell thee:He is callèd by thy name,For He calls Himself a Lamb.He is meek, and He is mild,He became a little child.I a child, and thou a lamb,We are callèd by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee! Little lamb, God bless thee!

THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O my soul is white!White as an angel is the English child, B [...]