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William Blake

William Blake was born in London in 1757 into a lowerclass family. He took to writing poetry and published Songs of Innocence and Songs of Innocence and of Experience. The sale of this and other books was not a success.

The poetry expressed his belief in the poet as a prophet and his sympathy for revolutionare movements.

For him imagination is the ability to see more deeply into the life of things, a power which he saw as peculiar to the poet, to the child and to the man in a state of innocence.

He described 'innocence' and 'experience' as the two contrary states of the human soul.

Innocence: refers to the condition of child who has not yet exprerienced the evils. This is a bright world of happiness and freedom. This inner state of innocence is externalized in a world of images such as the lamb and the child and is based on feelings of love and generosity. Innocence is an ideal to be strugglef for in a corrupt and wicked world.

Experience: is the world of normal adult life and it is represented with chimney sweep, the hapless soldier and the young prostitute of the poem; this is a world oppresses.

THE LAMB = lamb is the symbol of God's innocence and a demonstration of his love for his creatures.

THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER = a child can have visions and dreams.

Blake's view of the poet is that of a visionare man.

STYLE: Blake uses simple lexis and syntax; his poems are rich in images.

THE LAM

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the streams and over the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice?

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:

He is called by thy name,

For he calls Himself a Lamb,

He is meek, and He is mild;

He became a little child.

I, a child, and thou a lamb.

We are called by his name.

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER

When my mother died I was very young,

And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ' 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!'

So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl'd like a lamb's back, was shav'd, so I said
'Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.'

And so he was quiet, and that very night
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins and set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.

Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold,Tom was happy and warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.

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