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. We are led to believe a lie When we see 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, 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. ~ fragment from Auguries of Innocence, a poem from one of William Blakes notebooks now known as The Pickering Manuscript, published 1806 youtube/watch?v=ZmPt2Zvz_o0 xP
Posted on: Sun, 10 Nov 2013 18:37:43 +0000