Posted by: aboutalbion | July 29, 2012

Poetry

Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro’ the world we safely go.

 Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.

 [extracted and adapted from ‘Auguries of Innocence’ by William Blake]

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