In celebration of World Poetry Day one of my favourite poems from William Blake.
I always wonder if we hadn’t learnt so much and left ourselves innocent what life could have been like. Playing in fields, running about in the sun. However, one of the Romantic poets, I think it was Coleridge, left his son to grow up wild and free in the rural Europe, taught by Nature and he ended up murdering people.
Nevertheless, I haven’t given up on the idea that ignorance could indeed have been be bliss…
I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn, –
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring!
O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay, –
How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
All images copyright of Diana Patient 2013.