Wednesday, May 22, 2013

nEW pSYCHIC bREAK

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 turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.
-William Blake, "The Garden of Love" (1789)

3 comments:

  1. Me? Nah. One was enough. I found this poem a sign, perhaps, of an earlier, civilizational one beginning.

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  2. ...or probably more accurately... at its' height. The "collective" consciousness' reaction to the puritan era.

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