The poem
The wild winds weep And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs infold: But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And the rustling birds of dawn The earth do scorn.
Lo! to the vault Of paved heaven, With sorrow fraught My notes are driven: They strike the ear of night, Make weep the eyes of day; They make mad the roaring winds, And with tempests play.
Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe, After night I do crowd, And with night will go; I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increas'd; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.
Part of the Poetical Sketches, thus some of Blake's writings between 1769-77. I love the title Mad Song, and I start to think of crazy images like Frankenstein's monster roaming through the countryside in search of his maker, and alone in the world. I think of Poe's demented mind and what he produced in his literary works. Mad Song is filled with images of darkness and all things associated with deep pain. The earth…
Read the whole commentPart of the Poetical Sketches, thus some of Blake's writings between 1769-77. I love the title Mad Song, and I start to think of crazy images like Frankenstein's monster roaming through the countryside in search of his maker, and alone in the world. I think of Poe's demented mind and what he produced in his literary works. Mad Song is filled with images of darkness and all things associated with deep pain. The earth reflects the pain of the person ("the rustling birds of dawn the earth do scorn" & "weep the eyes of day"). The area that could possible bring some relief is rejected ("I turn my back to the east from whence comforts have incres'd") and light hurts the person.
The language is beautifully crafted, and each word works and flows to create images that can be felt. "Come hither, Sleep, and my griefs infold" is a image that makes me see a cocoon. He wants nothing to penetrate, especially the first showings of the morning light. "My notes are driven: They strike the ear of night" gives further linkage to the image of darkness. His notes have a path, a destination and they are also filled with "howling woe".
This is the type of poem that can be taken in parts as couplets and enjoyed. If I were artistic, I would have a studio filled with ink drawings just from the speaker's experiences with nature and the night covering: The weeping winds that are wild, the cold night, going with the night, the frantic pain.
A rich poem.