How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,
Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
He showed me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
and Phoebus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
and shut me in his golden cage.
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.
William Blake
One of my favourite poems by Blake, actually. I used it in the final exams last year, because it was the only poem I could recall, and be confident in my quoting...except for the little factor that I forgot what it was called XD Not like you need the name of the poem...just the lines, and the poet >_>
But I do like it, oddly enough, I can relate to the persona...no, don't look at me like that. I'm not THAT nuts.
And that is the summation of my thoughts for today...since I didn't get much sleep last night because of a dream I can't remember so i can't complain about it. But I feel like I've run for ages.
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Blake never ceases to fascinate me. I'll sit down some day and try and understand all of his poems- not just study them, but truly contemplate their nature and implications, none of which I'll spout onto a page and receive a mark for.
How exactly did you reference a poem without knowing it's title?
"The poem by William Blake about roaming fields had some excellent themes..."
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