Ellen Loudon

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The Garden of Love

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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 turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

William Blake from Songs of Experience

feeling a bit ‘bound with briars’. Not really the priests fault. More the domination of capitalism and the endless Bristol rain.

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Written by ellenloudon

December 7, 2006 at 7:42 pm

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