I fear'd the fury of my wind
by William Blake (1757–1827) English
* * *
I fear’d the fury of my wind
Would blight all blossoms fair & true,
And my sun it shin’d & shin’d,
And my wind it never blew.
But a blossom fair or true
Was not found on any tree;
For all blossoms grew & grew
Fruitless, false, tho’ fair to see.
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Tiger, tiger, burning bright
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What immortal hand or eye …
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Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye. …
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My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O, my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child, …
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I laid me down upon a bank,
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I heard among the rushes dank …
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