Poetry and Art, William Blake

Poetry Wednesday, William Blake

Oct 2, '08 3:35 PM for everyone

William Blake 1757-1827, Artist, Painter and Poet.

This man spent almost his entire life in the black hole that was London of the eighteenth century. This was a London where the Thames was foul with rotting sewage and approximately 30 poor souls died of starvation every week. Not the elegant eighteenth century usually depicted in books and films. This was a London where a mere handful of wealthy residents enjoyed the fresh air and the pleasant spacious homes of the west, a region that is now Regent Street. The rest of the wretched poverty stricken people existed on the edge of brothels, sewers, gin houses and burial grounds.

The Tyger, (1794) is a powerful piece of writing, very different to ‘The Little Black Boy,(1789) but both are storied aimed mostly for children from Blake’s  ‘Songs of Innocence ‘ series.  

The Poem ‘The Little Black Boy’ leaves you feeling so sorry for the poor child who believes (in the Poem) one day he will be white and every one will love him. How much of this child’s pain was actually observed and empathised by Blake; and how much was his own interpretation of the situation, an interpretation necessarily coloured by his own time and place in history, we cannot possibly know. But we can know, from the way this is written, that even if his interpretation of the child’s emotional response to the world is inaccurate, it is well intended and kindly.

If you read ‘The Tyger’ after reading ‘The Little Black Boy’ you feel a transition of emotion. The little Black Boy leaves a feeling of compassionate naivety but follow that with The Tyger and the soft compassionate naivety disappears and in replaced by the reality of the fearless Tyger tracking and attacking its helpless prey. A brave, beautiful, fearless but cruel tiger.

William Blake, Poet and Artist; how nice to be able to illustrate a poem with the authors own original illustrations.

William Blake (1757-1827)

The Little Black Boy

              1 My mother bore me in the southern wild,

              2 And I am black, but O! my soul is white;

              3 White as an angel is the English child,

              4 But I am black, as if bereav'd of light.

              5 My mother taught me underneath a tree,

              6 And sitting down before the heat of day,

              7 She took me on her lap and kissed me,

              8 And pointing to the east, began to say:

              9 Look on the rising sun: there God does live,

            10 And gives his light, and gives his heat away;

            11 And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive

            12 Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.

            13 And we are put on earth a little space,

            14 That we may learn to bear the beams of love;

            15 And these black bodies and this sunburnt face

            16 Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

            17 For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,

            18 The cloud will vanish; we shall hear his voice,

            19 Saying: 'Come out from the grove, my love and care,

            20 And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.' "

            21 Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;

            22 And thus I say to little English boy,

            23 When I from black and he from white cloud free,

            24 And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,

            25 I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear

            26 To lean in joy upon our father's knee;

            27 And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,

            28 And be like him, and he will then love me.

 

 The Tiger

       

1 Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

2 In the forest of the night

3 What immortal hand or eye

4 Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

5 In what distant deeps or skies

6 Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

7 On what wings dare he aspire?

8 What the hand dare seize the fire?

 

9 And What shoulder, and what art,

10 Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

11 And when thy heart began to beat,

12 What dread hand? and what dread feet?

13 What the hammer? what the chain?

14 In what furnace was thy brain?

15 What the anvil? what dread grasp

16 Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

17 When the stars threw down their spears,

18 And watered heaven with their tears,

19 Did he smile his work to see?

20 Did he who made the lamb make thee?

21 Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

22 In the forests of the night,

23 What immortal hand or eye

24 Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

Add a Comment

delete reply remixedphoenix wrote on Mar 18 Do love Mr Blake... thanks!

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delete reply fluffyj wrote on Oct 10, '08 I love that you've included the background with these writings. To see what emerges from such hard times, the sense of 'lost' in the first writing, the child trying to grasp the injustice and make sense of it.... so sad. -j

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delete reply luluone wrote on Oct 9, '08 "The Little Black Boy" reminds me of an English poem I learned back then at college called "To Ann Gregory" if I am not mistaken ( it's been 5 years ago) I love the poems of your choice and thank you all so much for the invitation

delete reply zafreud wrote on Oct 5, '08 I had read "Tyger" before, but not "The Little Black Boy"...I must say that, under this presentation, they both look awesome! Their words reveal their power and become really mesmerizing!

delete reply brendainmad wrote on Oct 3, '08 Here are some more poems that I memorized at school.

delete reply skeezicks1957 wrote on Oct 2, '08 Such an excellent presentation and very informative. ty.

delete reply veryfrank wrote on Oct 2, '08 I agree with how you present this. I was just thinking out loud. Certainly not wanting to complicate anything. I would shy away from writing anything particularly analytical about that collection. My blog posts have been getting too long as it is. Yet it is an intriguing thought.

edit delete reply forgetmenot525 wrote on Oct 2, '08 veryfrank said f I remember correctly, 'The Tyger' is from 'Songs of Experience' the second part of 'Songs of Innocence and Experience You are right of course, Tygre is from the second half, I just didn't want to complicate things, and I didn't want to end up writing reams and reams of analytical literary history................thought ..best keep it simple and just enjoy the poetry

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delete reply veryfrank wrote on Oct 2, '08 Wonderful blog Loretta. I do like Blake and have used his poems and illustrations in some of my blogs. I especially like 'The Blossom' from 'Songs of Innocence'. If I remember correctly, 'The Tyger' is from 'Songs of Experience' the second part of 'Songs of Innocence and Experience'. I would have to look again, but I seem to remember counterpart poems, in the two sections, with opposing viewpoints. Now I have to unpack my books and reread this work. My primary recollection is his turning sour on mankind. It has been many years since I have read the works as a whole. It seems like each poem stands alone quite well, yet seem to work differently in a collection. Oh my, one more thing to add to the 'to do list.'

delete reply starfishred wrote on Oct 2, '08 Very wonderful blog loretta I always enjoy Blake thank you.

delete reply lauritasita wrote on Oct 2, '08 Once again, thank you so much for an educational and inspiring post from the artwork to this wonderful poetry of William Blake. I have read Tyger before. I'm so glad you chose it. Loretta, won't you add this post to the Poetry Wednesday sign in page for this week ? I'm sure everyone else on the tour will want to read it, too.

delete reply bennett1 wrote on Oct 2, '08 He looks quite different from what I thought he would look like. Both poems are haunting in their imagery and metaphor. "Tyger" is frightening, threatening as a piece of work and seems to imply that the maker of the tiger is as awesome as his creation. Living in the conditions you describe I am not surprised at his dark but deliberately deep thoughts.

delete reply acousticeagle wrote on Oct 2, '08 Blake has always been one of my favorites. In high school I would borrow his poetry books from the library and amuse myself with his visionary pictures and unusual musings. I learned the Tyger poem off by heart and used to recite it when I was bored, it was a sort of memory exercise. These days I can only remember the first stanza. His illustrations are unique in all the world of art. I had some mates who were 'into' Blake as well, as we liked things that were quirky.