birthday Blake amaze

William Blake once saw
he believed
bright angel wings
lighting a tree on Peckham Rye
O imagine their shimmering
beneath the miraculous morning sky

Blake told his dear mother
of this heavenly vision
and she shielded him from
his father’s derision
O how this story stings

yet this very November day
I thought I saw little William lodged
in bare branches of beech
by the Sub’ Rooms of Stroud
O see that spirit up our tree
I shouted loud
it’s William Blake
it’s he

O see his broad forehead
his bold bulging eyes
see his stocky form
his short legs
his clumsy thighs
how come he’s up there then?
the flower-stall man marvels
did he fly like them bright wingèd angels?

O no!
his visionary verses
defy gravity gravely
O clouds unfold!
his words soar bravely
it’s Blake’s inner ear
has gathered us here
it’s Blake’s inner eye
keeps him forever high

Jeff Cloves