Posted in something different

William Blake

From Auguries of Innocence

The Winner’s Shout, the Loser’s Curse, 

Dance before dead England’s Hearse. 

Every Night & every Morn 

Some to Misery are Born. 

Every Morn & every Night 

Some are Born to sweet Delight. 

Some ar Born to sweet Delight, 

Some are born to Endless Night. 

We are led to Believe a Lie 

When we see not Thro’ the Eye 

Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night 

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light. 

God Appears & God is Light 

To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night, 

But does a Human Form Display 

To those who Dwell in Realms of day.


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