To the Accuser who is the God of this world.

Truly, My Satan, thou art but a Dunce,

And dost not know the Garment from the Man;

Every Harlot was a Virgin once,

Nor can can`st thou change Kate into Nan.

Tho` thou art worshipped by the Names Divine

Of Jesus and Jehovah, thou art still

The Son of Morn in weary Night`s decline,

The lost Traveller`s Dream under the Hill.


William Blake as a religious man? I don`t think so. His God was essentially one of the imagination, his mind a fragile vessel that swirled and gushed forth visions of Heaven and Hell.

Ultimately, he saw adherence to the Biblical God as Devil Worship; he was not into churches, preaching or any kind of dogmatic thought that shackled the mind.

At one and the same time, William was the greatest heretic in England and it`s greatest spiritualist. 

What is heresy and blasphemy? It only means something to people who believe in God; to the rest of humanity that could not care less, religion is simply a building they pass by on their way through life. William saw established religion as a kind of thought control, and any kind of constriction on the imagination was not to his taste.

The fact that poetry was something he did as a pastime rather than his main occupation is astounding; he was an engraver by trade, and his main avocation was watercolours.

Typically, he never published his poetry as everyone else did, but surrounded them in his art. And there they still nestle like tender, delicate flowers given life and form by his extraordinary imagination.

He is my favourite poet; such wit, insight and deep spirituality resides within all of his art that it makes me wonder whether you could simply stare at his paintings and slowly merge and disappear into the depths, surrounded by shimmering angelic choirs and dancing colours gently taking your soul by the hand and guiding it to a place of the greatest safety it has ever known.




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