Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/185

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been validated.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
161


In heaven the only art of living
Is forgetting and forgiving;
But if you on earth forgive
You shall not find where to live.


FROM "MILTON." (1804.)

AND did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green;
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold;
Bring me my arrows of desire;
Bring me my spear: O clouds, unfold;
Bring me my chariot of fire.

I will not cease from mental figh,.
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

"Would to God that all the Lord's people were prophets."
Numbers xi. 29.