THE DIVINE IMAGE 

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness. 

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress. 

Then every man, of every clime
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace. -

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

 

 

THE DIVINE IMAGE

Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror, the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress

The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal‘d
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.

 

The Human Abstract.

Pity would be no more,
If we did not make somebody Poor:
And Mercy no more could be,
If all were as happy as we:

And mutual fear brings peace:
Till the selfish loves increase.
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care. 

He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground wjth tears:
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.

Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Catterpiller and Fly,
Feed on the Mystery.

And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat:
And the Raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.

The Gods of the earth and sea,
Sought thro‘ Nature to find this Tree
But their search was all in vain;
There grows one in the Human Brain

 

 

AND DID THOSE FEET IN ANCIENT TIME

 

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England's mountain green

And was the holy Lamb of God

On England's pleasant pastures seen?

 

An did  the Countenance Divine

Shine forth upon clouded hills

 And was Jerusalem builded here

Among these dark Satanic mills?

 

Bring me my bow of burning gold;

Bring me my arrow of desire;

Bring me my spear - O clouds, unfold!

Bring me my chariot of fire!

 

I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England's green and pleasant land.

 

 

THE TIGER

 

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forest of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame the fearful symmetry?

 

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What a hand dare size the fire?

 

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? And what dread feet?

 

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

 

When the stars threw down their spears

And watered Heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

 

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

To the forest of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

 

SUNFLOWER

 

Ah, sunflower, weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the sun,

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the traverler's journey  is done;

 

Where the youth pined away with desire

And the pale virgin shrouded in snow

Arise from their graves and aspire

Where y sunflower wishes to go.