The Sky is an immortal Tent built by the Sons of Los； And every Space that a Man views around his dwelling-place， Standing on his own roof， or in his ...
Pity would be no more If we did not make somebody poor； And Mercy no more could be If all were as happy as we. And mutual fear brings peace， Till the ...
But others of the Sons of Los build Moments and Minutes and Hours， And Days and Months and Years， and Ages and Periods： wondrous buildings！ And every ...
A little black thing among the snow， Crying `'weep！ 'weep！' in notes of woe！ `Where are thy father and mother， say？'—— `Th...
But the Wine-press of Los is eastward of Golgonooza， before the Seat Of Satan： Luvah laid the foundation， and Urizen finish'd it in howling woe. H...
I wander thro' each charter'd street， Near where the charter'd Thames does flow， And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness， marks of...
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 c...
In Bowlahoola Los's Anvils stand and his Furnaces rage； Thundering the Hammers beat， and the Bellows blow loud， Living， self-moving， mourning， lam...
My mother groan'd， my father wept， Into the dangerous world I leapt； Helpless， naked， piping loud， Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my f...
He sent his two Servants， Whitefield and Wesley： were they Prophets， Or were they Idiots or Madmen？ —— Show us Miracles！ Can you have grea...