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Poems of William Blake

William Blake
London

The Human Abstract

Infant Sorrow >

 The human ABSTRACT

 Pity would be no more
 If we did not make somebody poor,
 And Mercy no more could be
 If all were as happy as we.

 And mutual fear brings Peace,
 Till the selfish loves increase;
 Then Cruelty knits a snare,
 And spreads his baits with care.

 He sits down with his holy fears,
 And waters the ground with tears;
 Then Humility takes its root
 Underneath his foot.

 Soon spreads the dismal shade
 Of Mystery over his head,
 And the caterpillar and fly
 Feed on the Mystery.

 And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
 Ruddy and sweet to eat,
 And the raven his nest has made
 In its thickest shade.

 The gods of the earth and sea
 Sought through nature to find this tree,
 But their search was all in vain: 
 There grows one in the human Brain.

London

The Human Abstract

Infant Sorrow >

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