William Blake, Mystic

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Silence, and Darkness' solemn Sisters' twins From ancient night, who nurse the tender thought To reason, and on reason build resolve, That column of true majesty in man, Assist me: I Will thank you in the grave The grave, your kingdom: them this frame shall fall A Victim sacred to your dreary shrine But what are ye P thou, ho didst put to flight Primeval silence, when the morning stars, Exulting, shouted o'er the rismg ball O thou! Whose word from solid darkness struck That spark, the sun; strike Wisdom from my soul My soul, which flies to thee, her trust, her treasure. As misers to their gold, while others rest.