Ilse's Reviews > Songs of Innocence and of Experience

Two contrary states of the human soul

The moon like a flower,
In Heavens high bower;
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
(Night)

At times the weight of the reputation of an artist is that intimidating I can barely overcome trepidation to venture into approaching his or her work. William Blake is such an artist. So when this lovely little book arrived in the letter box as a birthday present, it felt like a sweet little heartening push, giving me the courage to dive into the refreshing water of the unknown, holding the promise of a thrilling encounter with the imagination of supreme mind.

Unsure what to expect and what those two parts – innocence and experience – would stand for, making Blake’s acquaintance was a highly rewarding reading experience I cannot really compare to any other I had before.




From innocence, which seems mostly the one of childhood, symbolised by scenes on infants, children, a shepherd, mothers in a pastoral setting, the transition to experience is evocated by a darkening mood and tone, in which consciousness rises of the adult world in which danger, menace , anxiety undeniably will encumber happiness and joy and where comfort is hard to find – for adults nor for children.

The powerful imagery is replete with fauna and flora, happiness and joy take the shape of a sparrow, a lamb, a robin, a grasshopper, a rose, spring, green fields, sweet sleep. Revolving to experience, a child is hungry, sweet flowers in the Garden of Love have changed into graves and tombstones, youthfulness dissolves, the narrative voice bemoans the multitudinous forms of human woe and suffering in London (‘The mind-forg’d manacles I hear’). A rose is tainted at the core. A mighty tiger roars, reminding of the mysterium tremendum et fascinans characterizing the religious experience of transcendence.



At the first read I was particularly enthralled by the compelling, sublime musicality of the rhymes and the dynamics of the verses (it is thought that Blake set several of the verses to his own tunes, no scores have survived however). These are poems one can imagine a joy to learn and know by heart. In a second read, now having read the illuminating introduction which gives insight into the patterns of ‘contrary’ or answering poems in both parts of the book and the contrasts existing within the poems themselves, pointing at the the puzzling ambiguities, the contrary energies flowing through the poems, the angle of the brilliant mirroring interconnectivity of the composition was a delightful one, and I can easily imagine a third read will unveil other aspects.

The beauteous edition I read draws on the version sold by his wife Catherine Boucher to the Bishop of Limerick in 1830 which ended up into the hands of E.M. Forster, offering it to King’s College, Cambridge – on the left page a literal transcription of each poem is printed, on the right page a reproduction of the original illustrated plate (the designs are not just for embellishment of the poems but intrinsically part of Blake’s poetic imagination).

Absorbing the combination of both the words and the quaint images of Blake’s ‘illuminated printing’ at the same time proved ineffectual for me at the first read, so this gem volunteered as a new nightstand companion. At the moment it might be mostly obscure to me, but perhaps the more complex and mysterious meanings of the verses will further show upon rereading and exploring Blake more in depth.

Youth of delight! come hither
And see the opening morn,
Image of Truth new-born.
Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
Dark disputes and artful teazing.
Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways;
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
And feel—they know not what but care;
And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
(The Voice of the Ancient Bard)