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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=38236" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Book of Thel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THEL'S Motto</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?<br>Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:<br>Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?<br>Or Love in a golden bowl?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>THE BOOK of THEL</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Author & Printer Willm. Blake. 1780</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>THEL</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,<br>All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air.<br>To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:<br>Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;<br>And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water?<br>Why fade these children of the spring? born but to smile & fall.<br>Ah! Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,<br>Like a reflection in a glass: like shadows in the water<br>Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.<br>Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air:<br>Ah! gentle may I lay me down and gentle rest my head.<br>And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gently hear the voice<br>Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Lilly of the valley breathing in the humble grass<br>Answerd the lovely maid and said: I am a watry weed,<br>And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales:<br>So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head<br>Yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all<br>Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads his hand<br>Saying, rejoice thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower.<br>Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks:<br>For thou shall be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna:<br>Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs<br>To flourish in eternal vales: they why should Thel complain.<br>Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter a sigh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley.<br>Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'er tired<br>The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells the milky garments<br>He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face,<br>Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints.<br>Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume.<br>Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs<br>Revives the milked cow, & tames the fire-breathing steed.<br>But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun:<br>I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Queen of the vales the Lily answered, ask the tender cloud,<br>And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky.<br>And why it scatters its bright beauty thro the humid air.<br>Descend O little cloud & hover before the eyes of Thel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Cloud descended and the Lily bowd her modest head:<br>And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me<br>Why thou complainest now when in one hour thou fade away:<br>Then we shall seek thee but not find: ah Thel is like to thee.<br>I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg'd.<br>Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O virgin know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs<br>Where Luvah doth renew his horses: lookst thou on my youth.<br>And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more.<br>Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away.<br>It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy:<br>Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers:<br>And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent<br>The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun.<br>Till we arise link'd in a golden band and never part:<br>But walk united bearing food to all our tender flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dost thou O little cloud? I fear that I am not like thee:<br>For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers:<br>But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling birds,<br>But I feed not the warbling birds, they fly and seek their food:<br>But Thel delights in these no more because I fade away<br>And all shall say, without a use this shining women liv'd,<br>Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Cloud reclind upon his airy throne and answerd thus.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies,<br>How great thy use, how great thy blessing, every thing that lives.<br>Lives not alone nor or itself: fear not and I will call,<br>The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice.<br>Come forth worm and the silent valley, to thy pensive queen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The helpless worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,<br>And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Art thou a Worm? image of weakness. art thou but a Worm?<br>I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lillys leaf;<br>Ah weep not little voice, thou can'st not speak, but thou can'st weep:<br>Is this a Worm? I see they lay helpless & naked: weeping<br>And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Clod of Clay heard the Worms voice & rais'd her pitying head:<br>She bowd over the weeping infant, and her life exhald<br>In milky fondness, then on Thel she fix'd her humble eyes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O beauty of the vales of Har, we live not for ourselves,<br>Thou seest me the meanest thing, and so I am indeed:<br>My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he that loves the lowly, pours his oil upon my head<br>And kisses me, and binds his nuptial bands around my breast.<br>And says; Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee<br>And I have given thee a crown that none can take away.<br>But how this is sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know<br>I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The daughter of beauty wip'd her pitying tears with her white veil,<br>And said, Alas! I knew not this, and therefore did I weep:<br>That God would love a Worm I knew, and punish the evil foot<br>That wilful bruis'd its helpless form: but that he cherish'd it<br>With milk and oil I never knew, and therefore did I weep,<br>And I complaind in the mild air, because I fade away.<br>And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Queen of the vales, the matron Clay answered: I heard thy sighs.<br>And all thy moans flew o'er my roof, but I have call'd them down:<br>Wilt thou O Queen enter my house, tis given thee to enter,<br>And to return: fear nothing, enter with thy virgin feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eternal gates terrific porter lifted the northern bar:<br>Thel enter'd in & saw the secrets of the land unknown;<br>She saw the couches of the dead, & where the fibrous roots<br>Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:<br>A land of sorrows & of tears where never smile was seen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She wandered in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, listning<br>Dolors & lamentations: waiting oft beside the dewy grave<br>She stood in silence, listning to the voices of the ground,<br>Till to her own grave plot she came, & there she sat down.<br>And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction?<br>Or the glistening Eye to the poison of a smile!<br>Why are Eyelids stord with arrows ready drawn,<br>Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie!<br>Or an Eye of gifts & graces showring fruits & coined gold!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why a Tongue impress'd with honey from every wind?<br>Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in?<br>Why a Nostril wide inhaling terror trembling & affright<br>Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy?<br>Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Virgin started from her seat, & with a shriek,<br>Fled back unhinderd till she came into the vales of Har</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Blake">William Blake</a><div class=q>
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