upon seeing a portrait of Blake <br /> <br /> <br />Something moves in his dust, <br />Flame sleeps beneath the crust; <br />O whence had he those eyes <br />Lit with celestial surprise? <br />From what world blew that gust? <br />Are we near to Paradise? <br /> <br />Gather a chaplet of five stars <br />And the opalescent hue <br />Of the aureole brightness cast — <br />Red, hardly red, and blue, scarce blue, — <br />Round th' immaculate frosty moon, <br />Splintering light in glacial spars, <br />When November's loudening blast <br />Sweeps heaven's floor till burnished <br />More crystal than at August noon, <br />So we fit radiance may cast <br />Before his feet, around his head. <br /> <br />How visits he an earthly place, <br />Wanders among a mortal race? <br />How were his footsteps led <br />That still about his face <br />Lingers a ghostly trace <br />Of a secret influence shed <br />By a Hand the world denies, <br />In a land her most son flies, <br />As a gift upon him thrust <br />For an end he knoweth not, <br />Yet will shine because he must, <br />Shine and sing because he must <br />Reap a wrong he soweth not <br />Of contempt anger and distrust <br />For a world which boweth not <br />To the Flame which binds our dust. <br /> <br />Go net the moon, go snare the sun, <br />Set them upon his either hand! <br />Beneath his heels Leviathan <br />Roll your thick coils! His head be spanned <br />By rainbows tripled! Set a gem <br />At the Cross-scabbard of his sword <br />Whiter than lambwool or lilystem! <br />Place on his brow the diadem <br />Given the warrior of the Lord, <br />The crown-turrets of Jerusalem!<br /><br />Robert Nichols<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/p-an/
