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Praise (Lyric) by Blake That I could but fondness express
For her who draws me, nonetheless
In a manner modest, pure and chaste
Suiting her nature, and my taste
Of what I had known her to be
Presenting all together, in propriety.
Beauty I note, In every part
So follows fancy, from my heart
Which, though cherubic it may seem
Is nursed by she who grants my dream.
Up the ladder:
To My Grandfather
Down the ladder:
The End
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.3333335
Posted: July 10, 2002 4:35 PM PDT; Last modified: July 10, 2002 4:35 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.1666665 Overall Rank: 5062 Comments:
[9]
emilys369 @ 66.188.240.202
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26-Jul-02/6:23 PM
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Reply
this poem is very understandable and a lot of people feel this way!
Blake was a poet who knew how to blow nice glass, it's just a shame that he felt up my arsee
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