Weekend Poem: "Auguries of Innocence" by William Blake

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Auguries of Innocence

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BY WILLIAM BLAKE

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 thr' all its regions 
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate 
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 
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 
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 
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh 
He who shall train the Horse to War 
Shall never pass the Polar Bar 
The Beggars 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 
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 
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 
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 
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 mockd in Age & Death 
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt 
The rotting Grave shall neer get out 
He who respects the Infants faith 
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 
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 
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 
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 & 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

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