By William Blake
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying “weep! ‘weep!” in notes of woe!
“Where are thy father and mother? say?”
“They are both gone up to the church to pray.
Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil’d among the winter’s snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.”
Poet Bio
William Blake was born in London, where he spent most of his life working as an engraver and illustrator. At about age ten, Blake had his first vision: a tree filled with angels. Mysticism is one of the hallmarks of his work. While his poetry was not widely known during his lifetime, his writing and his art have continued to grow in popularity.
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