In the garden of ethereal light,
Where shadows dance in gentle flight,
William Blake’s whispers softly glide,
A love so pure, it cannot hide.

Through realms of dreams and painted skies,
His verses echo, never dies,
A muse that sings of hearts entwined,
In every line, love’s truth defined.

With every stroke of quill and ink,
He weaves a tale that makes hearts sink,
To depths where passion’s fire burns,
And every soul to him returns.

O Blake, your love, a timeless grace,
Forever etched in time and space,
In words and art, your legacy,
A beacon of eternity.