The Truth...

(By William Blake)

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.

2 comentários:

Matheus disse...

I am afraid of this poem!!
Probably, Shakespeare wrote it in the last period of his work... His productions in this period were shady.
I prefer the sentence: "Thou shalt not writ over the door"

Matheus disse...

Blake and Shakespeare were brothers....
Nobody knows it...
That's why I wrote the last comment...
Blake was the youngest child and Shakespeare the oldest....

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