William Blake
The stern Bard ceas’d, asham’d of his own song; enrag’d he swung
His harp aloft sounding, then dash’d its shining frame against
A ruin’d pillar in glittring fragments; silent he turn’d away,
And wander’d down the vales of Kent in sick & drear lamentings.
hi again Dawn-- I just read the interview/ w you in the Sewanee Review: you might enjoy my mock interview at http://www.loquaciouslyyours.com . The Blake project sounds very interesting; a brain work-out, for sure. best j
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ReplyDeleteI thought I'd just let Blake do the talking. He's pretty good at it, even when he's ambiguous.
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