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William Blake - My Spectre Around Me

My spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way.
My emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.

A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My spectre follows thee behind.

He scents thy footsteps in the snow,
Wheresoever thou dost go
Through the wintry hail and rain.
When wilt thou return again?

Dost thou not in pride and scorn
Fill with tempests all my morn,
And with jealousies and fears
Fill my pleasant nights with tears?

Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Has bereaved of their life.
Their marble tombs I built with tears
And with cold and shuddering fears.

Seven more loves weep night and day
Round the tombs where my loves lay,
And seven more loves attend each night
Around my couch with torches bright.

And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with wine my mournful head,
Pitying and forgiving all
Thy transgressions, great and small.

Added: on July 16th, 2006 at 6:27 PM | Viewed: 676 times | Comments (1)


My Spectre Around Me - Comments and Information

Poet: William Blake
Poem: My Spectre Around Me

Comment 1 of 1, added on July 16th, 2006 at 6:27 PM.

There are some puzzles within this poem that make me wonder if Blake was merely writing in the style of his comtemporaries, or if he was designing deeper mysteries that he would later master in his longer works. The number seven is repeated quite often. After his seven sweet loves are killed, seven more loves come to weep/mourn; seven additional loves attend at night; seven more are in his bed. There is mention of a state of forgiveness for great and small transgressions, and then in the last two stanzas, there is a boast that this state of seeking will go on forever and that the final victory of sorts will be the amazing fact that at death, the speaker will be in the same grave.
There seem to be four sources involved in this poem: the spectre, the emanation, the speaker and the follower. The spectre follows and scents, while the emanation portion weeps within. A "we" forms, yet by the end of the poem, only I and the follower are distinct. The "night & morn the flight renew" remind me of the Phoenix in that the bird never really goes away, it resurrects itself.
There is no sunshine in this poem. All the work seem to be done in sorrow, fleeting hopes and fear. The virtues sought don't seem positive, and what is given is filled with natures of the seven deadly sins (Pride,scorn jealousies, fears).
Stanza seven is not even like a true mournful state. The seven loves put on a crown of wine, then the confessions of pitying and forgiving take place.
I like the spectre scenting the footsteps in the snow image.

dallas holsten from United States

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