Forlorn.of.thee (fa'lo:n ŭv thē), p, my only strength and stay,forlorn of thee, whither shall I betake me, where subsist?
Paradise Lost by John Milton

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Garden of Love

by William Blake 1757 – 1827

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.


Jo Dee said...

eeka, that was sad! Feeling a bit blue today, YW? What's going on?


Young Werther said...

JD, I'm fine, thank you.

Found this beautiful poem, had to 'record' it for posterity and of course share it.

Lilly said...

It is a beautiful poem and while I was familiar with the first few lines only I so enjoyed reading the rest. Thanks for posting.

Young Werther said...

Hi Lilly, glad you like it. Pimping my blog, you may also like 'If' by Rudyard Kipling :)

Lavender said...

Twas ever "gather ye rosebuds while ye may"...and fondly remember the love one held on that day.........My friend, have I hit the ginger beer too hard tonight? xox

Young Werther said...

Lavender, that's lovely. Understand that poem inspired a couple of beautiful paintings too.

Hope you're keeping well, miss your photos.

Jeni Ferguson said...

One of my favorites. I used to sit with my great grandmother and read her poetry when I was a young child. This is one we read frequently. Thank you for bringing back that memory :)