THE ANGEL BY WILLIAM BLAKE THE TYGER BY WILLIAM BLAKE

I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean? Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

And that I was a maiden Queen: In the forests of the night;
Guarded by an Angel mild: What immortal hand or eye,
Witless woe, was ne'er beguil'd! Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

And I wept both night and day In what distant deeps or skies,
And he wip'd my tears away Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
And I wept both day and night On what wings dare he aspire?
And hid from him my hearts delight What the hand, dare sieze [sic] the fire?

So he took his wings and fled: And what shoulder, & what art,
Then the morn blush'd rosy red: Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
I dried my tears & armed my fears, And when thy heart began to beat,
With ten thousand shields and spears. What dread hand? & what dread feet?

Soon my Angel came again; What the hammer? what the chain,
I was arm'd, he came in vain: In what furnace was thy brain?
For the time of youth was fled, What the anvil? what dread grasp,
And grey hairs were on my head. Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
MY PRETTY ROSE TREE BY WILLIAM
BLAKE Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
A flower was offered to me; What immortal hand or eye,
Such a flower as May never bore. Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
But I said I've a Pretty Rose-tree:
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree;

To tend her by day and by night.
But my Rose turnd away with jealousy:
And her thorns were my only delight.
LONDON BY WILLIAM BLAKE THE SCHOOL BOY BY WILLIAM BLAKE
I wander thro’ each charter’d street, I love to rise in a summer morn,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow. When the birds sing on every tree;
And mark in every face I meet The distant huntsman winds his horn,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe. And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear, But to go to school in a summer morn,-
In every voice: in every ban, O! It drives all joy away!
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
How the Chimney-sweepers cry In sighing and dismay.
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh Ah! then at times I drooping sit,
Runs in blood down Palace walls And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear Nor sit in learning's bower,
How the youthful Harlots curse Worn through with dreary shower.
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
THE FLY BY WILLIAM BLAKE But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring!
Little Fly
Thy summers play, O father and mother if buds are nipped,
My thoughtless hand And blossoms blown away;
Has brush'd away. And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
Am not I By sorrow and care's dismay,-
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou How shall the summer arise in joy,
A man like me? Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
For I dance Or bless the mellowing year,
And drink & sing: When the blasts of winter appear?
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength & breath:
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
ALONE BY MAYA ANGELOU MEN BY MAYA ANGELOU
Lying, thinking When I was young, I used to
Last night Watch behind the curtains
How to find my soul a home As men walked up and down the street. Wino
Where water is not thirsty men, old men.
And bread loaf is not stone Young men sharp as mustard.
I came up with one thing See them. Men are always
And I don't believe I'm wrong Going somewhere.
That nobody, They knew I was there. Fifteen
But nobody Years old and starving for them.
Can make it out here alone. Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Alone, all alone Breasts of a young girl,
Nobody, but nobody Jacket tails slapping over
Can make it out here alone. Those behinds,
Men.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use One day they hold you in the
Their wives run round like banshees Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Their children sing the blues Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They've got expensive doctors They tighten up. Just a little. The
To cure their hearts of stone. First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
But nobody Soft into your defenselessness. A little
No, nobody More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Can make it out here alone. Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Alone, all alone Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Nobody, but nobody Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
Can make it out here alone. It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
Now if you listen closely When the earth rights itself again,
I'll tell you what I know And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Storm clouds are gathering Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
The wind is gonna blow No keys exist.
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan, Then the window draws full upon
'Cause nobody, Your mind. There, just beyond
But nobody The sway of curtains, men walk.
Can make it out here alone. Knowing something.
Going someplace.
Alone, all alone But this time, I will simply
Nobody, but nobody Stand and watch.
Can make it out here alone.
Maybe.
MOMMA WELFARE ROLL BY MAYA SAVIOR BY MAYA ANGELOU
ANGELOU
Petulant priests, greedy
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, centurions, and one million
Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips incensed gestures stand
Where bones idle under years of fatback between your love and me.
And lima beans.
Her jowls shiver in accusation Your agape sacrifice
Of crimes clichéd by is reduced to colored glass,
Repetition. Her children, strangers vapid penance, and the
To childhood's toys, play tedium of ritual.
Best the games of darkened doorways,
Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of Your footprints yet
Other people's property. mark the crest of
billowing seas but
Too fat to whore, your joy
Too mad to work, fades upon the tablets
Searches her dreams for the of ordained prophets.
Lucky sign and walks bare-handed
Into a den of bureaucrats for Visit us again, Savior.
Her portion. Your children, burdened with
'They don't give me welfare. disbelief, blinded by a patina
I take it.' of wisdom,
carom down this vale of
fear. We cry for you
although we have lost
your name.
WHEN YOU COME BY MAYA ANGELOU
When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
THE LESSON BY MAYA ANGELOU
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
I keep on dying again.
Gatherings of days too few.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Small fists of sleeping
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Children.
Trunks of secret words,
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
I CRY.
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.