In twilight’s veil, his words do weave,
A tapestry of dreams, where thoughts conceive.
With visions vast, the sky he paints,
In realms of wonder, where spirit faints.
The tiger’s eye, the lamb’s soft bleat,
In Blake’s domain, they gently meet.
A duality of fierce and meek,
In every verse, his soul does speak.
His pen, a wand of mystic light,
Illuminates the darkest night.
Through Innocence and Experience,
He delves into the heart’s essence.
With angels’ gaze and demons’ grin,
He charts the course of truth within.
A poet, prophet, artist true,
William Blake, we honor you.