Blake's Progress

'My mother groaned, my father wept, Into the dangerous world I leapt.' An 18th century child of fate, Prophetic, destined to create 'To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour' So said the luminary when He came into the world of men Born in Soho, schooled five years, Grew to engrave celestial spheres 'Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born. Every Morn and every Night Some are born to Sweet Delight' From four years old, his visions came God peeped through his window pane At eight he saw a sacred tree With wingèd angels, heavenly And sometimes, in a field of hay Angels would greet him mystically With his dead brother, William talked They'd meet and discourse as he walked And Wollstonecraft the feminist Shared views of this strong anarchist Free love. Although they never met Their thinking filled the same mind-set Blake's Catherine, wed by holy rite, Was taught by him to read and write Inside Westminster Abbey, Blake Heard ghostly chants by monk, prelate One of his final coins he spent Buying a pencil, on he went With his last sketch, his weeping wife Heard him sing psalms, then quit his life Post mortem, some friends burned his work For heresy, or sexual quirk Who gave them leave to censure Blake? Such judgement on his work to make? 'Can this be love which drinks another As a sponge does drink up water? ' Freud, Jung, his paintings did adore Nash, Ginsberg, Huxley many more Poets and artists, give him praise The man who trod unearthly ways