In the silence of the eternal night,
William Blake finds his peaceful rest.
His soul takes flight on wings so light,
In realms where poets are truly blessed.
His visions now beyond our sight,
In the gardens where angels tread.
He dances in the purest light,
Among the living and the dead.
No longer bound by earthly chains,
His spirit soars in endless skies.
Free from all the worldly pains,
In heavenâs halls, where beauty lies.
Remember him, the poet grand,
Whose words still whisper through the years.
In death, he holds creationâs hand,
And wipes away all mortal tears.