Night by William Blake | Songs of Innocence | Poetry Reading |Soothing | Mystical Poetry

Showcasing the spiritual and mystical writings of William Blake, (28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827), one of the most famous and distinctive English poets. His poems in "Songs of Innocence", including "Night," at first glance seems simple, childlike, rather straight forward and mundane.

But on close inspection and meditation, many who have analyzed his poems agree that you would have to read between the lines to understand that his subjects symbolize a deeper meaning of the love of the Almighty God and His relationship with earthly souls. Blake enlightened us through his poems and paintings, his thoughts inspired from Christian scriptures and undoubtedly, from the Divine Self.

NIGHT
The sun descending in the West,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower

In heaven’s high bower,

With silent delight,

Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight,
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;

Unseen, they pour blessing,

And joy without ceasing,

On each bud and blossom,

And each sleeping bosom.


They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:

If they see any weeping

That should have been sleeping,

They pour sleep on their head,

And sit down by their bed.


When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.

But, if they rush dreadful,

The angels, most heedful,

Receive each mild spirit,

New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:

Saying: ‘Wrath by His meekness,

And, by His health, sickness,

Is driven away

From our immortal day.
And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.

For, washed in life’s river,

My bright mane for ever

Shall shine like the gold,

As I guard o’er the fold.’

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Available in 🔵 paperback 🟡 kindle.

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