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/lit/ - Literature


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File: 171 KB, 1200x800, william-blake-hires-cropped.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
10884028 No.10884028 [Reply] [Original]

OVERRATED
*clapclap clapclapclap*

>> No.10884047

his visual art isn't

>> No.10884053

>>10884028
PROTP: he's a filter much like Plato:
>entry plebs love him
>midwit pseuds think he's trash
>patricians love him

>> No.10885368

>>10884028
t. mid-forged manacled pleb

>> No.10885873

Keats is miles better. There was a reason that he wasn't discovered in his day.

>> No.10887231

>>10884028
jesus everyone in this thread is half past retarded. Blake's cosmogony is one of the most important antecedents to British/Irish literary modernist aesthetics.

Songs of Innocence and Experience -- fire bars
Jerusalem the Emanation of the Giant Albion -- fire bars
All Religions are One -- fire bars
Milton -- fire bars

Continental prophecies - bars
the first book of urizen - bars
There is no natural religion - bars

Definitely one of the top 3 Romantics along with Keats and Byron, honorable mention to Shelley.
Bet you all are still reading turdsworth tho. His criticism is important, in the same way Mathew Arnold's is, but his poetry is wild rubbish

>> No.10887284

>>10887231
>wild rubbish

'TWAS summer, and the sun had mounted high:
Southward the landscape indistinctly glared
Through a pale steam; but all the northern downs,
In clearest air ascending, showed far off
A surface dappled o'er with shadows flung
From brooding clouds; shadows that lay in spots
Determined and unmoved, with steady beams
Of bright and pleasant sunshine interposed;
To him most pleasant who on soft cool moss
Extends his careless limbs along the front
Of some huge cave, whose rocky ceiling casts
A twilight of its own, an ample shade,
Where the wren warbles, while the dreaming man,
Half conscious of the soothing melody,
With side-long eye looks out upon the scene,
By power of that impending covert, thrown
To finer distance. Mine was at that hour
Far other lot, yet with good hope that soon
Under a shade as grateful I should find
Rest, and be welcomed there to livelier joy.
Across a bare wide Common I was toiling
With languid steps that by the slippery turf
Were baffled; nor could my weak arm disperse
The host of insects gathering round my face,
And ever with me as I paced along.

>> No.10887377

>>10887284
>The host of insects gathering round my face
Did he just admit he's literal shit?

>> No.10889302
File: 1008 KB, 4206x3433, but295.1.1.cpd.300.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
10889302

>judging blake as a romantic

might as well say the fish is a bad bird