Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. III. Addison to Blake
Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake
Extracts from Poetical Sketches: Mad Song
By William Blake (1757–1827)
THE WILD winds weep,
  And the night is a-cold,
Come hither, Sleep,
  And my griefs enfold:
But lo! the morning peeps        5
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling beds of dawn
The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault
  Of pavèd heaven        10
With sorrow fraught
  My notes are driven;
They strike the ear of night,
Make weak the eyes of day;
They make mad the roaring winds        15
And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud
  With howling woe
After night I do crowd
  And with night will go;        20
I turn my back to the east
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

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