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Collected Poems

Book by William Blake · 17 quotes · Poetry, Heart, Poem

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Collected Poems Quotes

“Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.”

ThinkingHappinessNightSleepMorningEveningThought ProvokingWakingGood DayNoonGood MorningUp EarlyEarly MorningMonday MorningDaily LivingHave A Good DayFunny SleepBeautiful MorningMorning InspirationalDaily RoutinesFunny Good MorningGood SleepGood Night SleepGood Morning InspirationalSleeping At NightWaking Up EarlyFunny SleepingGreetings In The MorningMorning MotivationGood EveningGood Morning BeautifulInspirational Good NightMorning RoutinesHappy MorningTime To SleepEvening LightMorning And Night
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“There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone.”

IfsKnowsMindWarDoneCareLastsNightSoundWhiteGoneFireTreeMankindSpringSingingLowsBirdRainSmellDawnPoolFenceWireFrogsWhimRobinsPlumsWhistling
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“Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of summer night.”

WorldLooksLongStillsMomentsPurposeNightPassionStrongGivenFeltHoursForeverImpossibleTreeWindPromiseSummerSingingBirdRiversGoldDown AndConvincedHeatStreamsLook UpPaleLong AgoSmallestParticlesGrandeurAlteredCarried AwayFireflySummer NightsFoliageBasking
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“Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.”

NightSilenceFieldsBrokenMoonSummerSingingBirdTiredIndianWheelsWornSeptemberInsectsHornsLingeringMapleGrasshoppersIndian Summer
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“Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning, We will come back to earth some fragrant night, And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white. We will come down at night to these resounding beaches And the long gentle thunder of the sea, Here for a single hour in the wide starlight We shall be happy, for the dead are free.”

IfsKindLongEarthDeathNightHoursWhiteSeaDyingLowsWideBreatheBeachGentleThunderLanesImpermanenceBendingStarlight
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