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PotW #61
This Week's Poem

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The Garden of Love
- William Blake (1757-1827)

    I went to the Garden of Love,
    And saw what I never had seen:
    A Chapel was built in the midst,
    Where I used to play on the green.

    And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
    And "Thou shalt not" writ over the door;
    So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
    That so many sweet flowers bore,

    And I saw it was filled with graves,
    And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
    And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
    And binding with briars my joys & desires.


The above poem can be found for example in:
  • Ferguson, Margaret, Mary Jo Salter, and Jon Stallworthy, eds. The Norton Anthology of Poetry (Fourth Edition). New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1996.