Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake

William Blake (1757–1827)

Extracts from Poetical Sketches: Song: ‘My silks and fine array’

MY silks and fine array,

My smiles and languished air,

By love are driven away;

And mournful lean Despair

Brings me yew to deck my grave:

Such end true lovers have.

His face is fair as heaven

When springing buds unfold;

Oh, why to him was ’t given

Whose heart is wintry cold?

His breast is love’s all-worshipped tomb

Where all love’s pilgrims come.

Bring me an axe and spade,

Bring me a winding sheet;

When I my grave have made,

Let winds and tempest beat;

Then down I ’ll lie as cold as clay.

True love doth pass away!