William Blake Written On A Gate

April 5, 2013

I was in Amersham at the weekend.

The weather is wierd at the moment. It should be Spring, but it isn’t. I find it ominous, disconcerting, the cold is somehow cruel, the earth repressed and bitter.

I don’t know why someone would write an extract from William Blake’s poem “The Tyger” on a what looked like a wooden gate in front of their house.

But somehow it seemed fitting.



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