Blog Poetry

From Milton By William Blake

And did those feet in ancient time 

   Walk upon England’s mountains green? 

And was the holy Lamb of God 

   On England’s pleasant pastures seen? 

And did the Countenance Divine    

   Shine forth upon our clouded hills? 

And was Jerusalem builded here 

   Among these dark Satanic Mills? 

Bring me my bow of burning gold! 

   Bring me my arrows of desire! 

Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! 

   Bring me my chariot of fire! 

I will not cease from mental fight, 

   Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, 

Till we have built Jerusalem   

   In England’s green and pleasant land.

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