William Blake was born November 28, 1757. His mother was Catherine Wright and father was James Blake.
When he was young, he began to "see" spirits and angels. He continued to see such things all his life. He also began to show artistic ability as a kid. He went to henry par's art school. He also began to collect various prints. His artistic skills continued to grow, and he ended up illustrating various books and other things.

Some of Blake's visions included the angel Gabriel, the Virgin Mary, and other people throughout history. He considered Newton's scientific theories to be complete nonsense, and was deeply influenced by gothic art. After Blake's death, Wordsworth said, "There was no doubt that this poor man was mad, but there is something in the madness of this man which interests me more than the sanity of Lord Byron and Walter Scott."(9)
Two of William Blake's most famous works, "Songs of Innocence" and "Songs of Experience," are books of poems that are written to directly contrast one another. "Songs of Innocence" was written from a young, innocent child's perspective, and "Songs of Experience" was written to be from that same child, but from a older, wiser, and more mature perspective. "Songs of Experience" is often seen as a more negative group of poems, because the child has learned of such things as fear and envy, but it is intended only to be an ironic, as well as necessary contrast to the poems of "Songs of Innocence." William Blake believed very strongly that both the good and the bad, the dark and the light, are necessary, and that one should not be viewed as a negative and the other as a positive. (3)

Two of Blake's poems that show the difference between the the "Songs of Innocence" and the "Songs of Experience" are "The Lamb" and "The Tyger." "The Lamb" published in his first book takes a look at God in a more noble and gentle view while "The Tyger" speaks of God as evil and responsible for all misery and death in the world. These two poems are excellent illustrations of Blake's message in his two famous books of poetry. (4)

William Blake died August 12, 1827. His wife died four years after him. From the year 1818 to the year of his death, Blake wrote no more poetry, but continued making engravings. (5)


(10) Blake's self illustrated image of his "book of innocence"


One of Blake's many illustrations. (6)


This is another of Blake's paintings, entitled "The Ancient of Days" (12).


Blake's "The Tyger" (7) Blake's "The Lamb" from Songs of Innocence (8)

THE TYGER
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? (13)

The Lamb
1 Little Lamb, who made thee?
2 Dost thou know who made thee?
3 Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
4 By the stream and o'er the mead;
5 Gave thee clothing of delight,
6 Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
7 Gave thee such a tender voice,
8 Making all the vales rejoice?
9 Little Lamb, who made thee?
10 Dost thou know who made thee?

11 Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
12 Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:
13 He is called by thy name,
14 For he calls himself a Lamb.
15 He is meek, and he is mild;
16 He became a little child.
17 I a child, and thou a lamb.
18 We are called by his name.
19 Little Lamb, God bless thee!
20 Little Lamb, God bless thee! (11)

LOVE'S SECRET
by: William Blake (1757-1827)

EVER seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind doth move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears. Ah! she did depart! Soon after she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh. (14)

NIGHT by: William Blake (1757-1827)

HE sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest. And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night. Farewell, green fields and happy grove, Where flocks have took delight: Where lambs have nibbled, silent move The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing And joy without ceasing On each bud and blossom, On each sleeping bosom. They look in every thoughtless nest Where birds are cover'd warm; They visit caves of every beast, to keep them all from harm: If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping, They pour sleep on their head, And sit down by their bed. When wolves and tigers howl for prey, They pitying stand and weep, Seeking to drive their thirst away And keep them from the sheep. But, if they rush dreadful, The angels, most heedful, Receive each mild spirit, New worlds to inherit. And there the lion's ruddy eyes Shall flow with tears of gold: And pitying the tender cries, And walking round the fold: Saying, 'Wrath by His meekness, And, by His health, sickness, Are driven away From our immortal day. 'And now beside thee, bleating lamb, I can lie down and sleep, Or think on Him who bore thy name, Graze after thee, and weep. For, wash'd in life's river, My bright mane for ever Shall shine like the gold As I guard o'er the fold.' (15)

MAD SONG by: William Blake (1757-1827)

HE wild winds weep, And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs enfold! . . . But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And the rustling beds of dawn The earth do scorn. Lo! to the vault Of pavèd heaven, With sorrow fraught, My notes are driven: They strike the ear of Night, Make weak the eyes of Day; They make mad the roaring winds, And with the tempests play, Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe After night I do crowd And with night will go; I turn my back to the east From whence comforts have increased; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.

(16)

(3)http://www.online-literature.com/blake/
(4)http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Ithaca/8855/tyger.html
(5) http://www.vu.union.edu/~blake/man.html
(6)http://www.apocalyptic-theories.com/gallery/womanandbeast/blakedragonbg.jpg
(7) http://goodking.new21.net/bbs/rgboard/view.php?&bbs_id=00005&page=12&doc_num=1183&PHPSESSID=68f805be6aa189f1d27fe53ac0f6f223
(8) http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.fredonia.edu/department/english/shokoff/lamb.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.fredonia.edu/department/english/shokoff/britroma.htm&h=536&w=364&sz=50&hl=en&start=4&um=1&tbnid=qP5UMOUf4rf4ZM:&tbnh=132&tbnw=90&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dwilliam%2Bblake%2B%2522the%2Blamb%2522%26svnum%3D10%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN
(9)http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/wblake.htm
(10)innocence
(11) http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/181.html
(12) http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/blake/
(13) http://www.eecs.harvard.edu/~keith/poems/tyger.html
(14)http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/loves_secret.html
(15) http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/night.html
(16) http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/mad_song.html