William Blake
Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1828 (London) – 1882 (Birchington-on-Sea)
THIS is the place. Even here the dauntless soul,
The unflinching hand, wrought on; till in that nook,
As on that very bed, his life partook
New birth, and passed. Yon river's dusky shoal,
Whereto the close-built coiling lanes unroll,
Faced his work-window, whence his eyes would stare,
Thought-wandering, unto nought that met them there,
But to the unfettered irreversible goal.
This cupboard, Holy of Holies, held the cloud
Of his soul writ and limned; this other one,
His true wife's charge, full oft to their abode
Yielded for daily bread the martyr's stone,
Ere yet their food might be that Bread alone,
The words now home-speech of the mouth of God.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 26, 2023
- 35 sec read
- 175 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABBAACCADEFGGH |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 649 |
Words | 114 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"William Blake" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/7786/william-blake>.
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