Blog

Poem for the Day - Holy Thursday by William Blake

Posted: 29 March 2018

Poem for the Day

Is this a holy thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reducd to misery, ...
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns.
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine,
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.

Holy Thursday
William Blake

See all blog entries

Valid XHTML 1.0 Strict Valid CSS!

Site by Desktop Solutions