Blake was the child who saw God at his window-pane. He frightened Blake and then Went away again. Blake saw angels in A tree at Peckham Rye, Like stars upon the branches They flamed before his eye. Blake was a madman to The men of his day; They never saw the Lord Or Heaven his way. It is a queer thing: Though I am wise and sane God does not come to stare Through my window-pane, Nor anywhere in London Do angels stand in trees, Though I have knelt down yearning For visions like these. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABU SALAMMAMM - A SONG OF EMPIRE by EZRA POUND AN ODE UPON A QUESTION WHETHER LOVE SHOULD CONTINUE FOREVER by EDWARD HERBERT NORTHERN FARMER, NEW STYLE by ALFRED TENNYSON AT LORD'S [CRICKET GROUND] by FRANCIS THOMPSON RODGERSON'S DOUG by WILLIAM AITKEN LE GUIGNON by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 44 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |