William Blake

(1757 - 1827)


Blake is not only a seer, but almost an inhabitant
of other planes and other worlds; or, at least,
the second subtle sight is his normal sight.


I saw a chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in,
And many weeping stood without,
Weeping, mourning, worshipping.

I saw a Serpent rise between
The white pillars of the door,
And he forc’d and forc’d and forc’d;
Down the golden hinges tore,

And along the pavement sweet,
Set with pearls and rubies bright,
All his shining length he drew,
Till upon the altar white

Vomiting his poison out
On the Bread and on the Wine.
So I turn’d into a sty,
And laid me down among the swine.

Sri Aurobindo’s remarks:

«Blake stands out among the mystic poets of Europe. His occasional obscurity, — he is more often in his best poems lucid and crystal clear, — is due to his writing of things that are not familiar to the physical mind and writing them with fidelity instead of accomodating them to the latter… In reading such writing the inner being has to feel first, then only the mind can catch what is behind.»