Home

Visit our critical fiction and non-fiction forums at Everyauthor.com


 

> US political news
>
Automobile and car news and specs
> Aircraft profiles
> internet advertising networks, search engines, web resources
> poetry, poems and poets
> crossword puzzles, word search and jigsaw puzzles, office humor, games and jokes
> Bible verses and literature
> Avant News: Deadpan satire from plausible futures


Poetry of William Blake

THE GARDEN OF LOVE

I laid me down upon a bank,
   Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
   Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
   To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
   Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
   And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
   Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
   And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
   That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
   And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
   And binding with briars my joys and desires.