To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower.
You’ve taken each of us hand in hand,
And taught us about eternity in just one hour.
We’ve spoken of David and Gemmy, Janet and Jock,
And how the landscape shades away our ego.
That the poet practices integrity of vision compared to a Doc,
And that humanity is how we are connected amigo.
The tragedy is when we live within a cage,
And do not see the miracle of the minute, even the Wren.
When we cannot see the resurrection that comes from rage,
And use only our senses, we cannot call ourselves God’s men.
Our ancestors may be a different hue,
And their spiritual practices may cause fright.
But these poetic people only come in a few,
And we can learn of the magic that happens at night.
In our mini deaths our eyes are shut and we cannot see,
And in the darkness it is ignorance that we sow.
But Blake understood that that’s not how we should be,
And believed that through the eye is when we’ll know.
We have sailed through the stormy seas of regret and social curse,
And learned of men who lead themselves to believe a lie.
From Oothoon to Mary and England’s female hearse. ,
And the poor human soul that without imagination longs to die.
“Words reach into the silence”, a famous Elliot once said,
And Blake challenged Enlightenment’s praise of a human robot.
Without language and heart and humility we also read,
Our existence and experience is nothing better than rot.
Wordsworth’s “The child is father of the man” is allied with Blake,
And in Innocence and Experience he tells of the nature of the child.
Do not take away their freedom and their bliss, for God’s sake,
Let them play on the green and be heard by their echo in the wild.
With experience comes sorrow, sadness and doubt,
And the pangs of bringing children into a cursed world is made clear.
Organized religion corrupted God; its light has blown out,
And so Blake bore the Poetic Genius that eradicated his fear.
His disgust of slavery and the suppression of our birth rite,
And his profound love of a Jesus who broke the rules to be heard.
His desire for liberation of the oppressed and gratitude for the gift of life,
Sum up Blake as a visionary though many dismissed him as absurd.
While his devil is the voice of passion and drive,
And his angel, filled with lies, has a predetermined fate.
Celebrating the contraries is something we should strive,
Rather than submitting to Swedenborg’s “monkey” state.
When you decide to experience a rich and holistic life,
And you care deeply for the humility of humanity.
A study of Blake will cleanse your doors of perception, remove you from strife,
So that everything would appear infinite with the death of vanity.
As you can see MG, words are not enough to express the burning light,
That you have passed to us throughout our years with you.
With sincere gratitude I can only hope that we might illuminate the night,
Rather than hold our “candles in the sunshine”. MG, teacher’s like you are few.
Advanced English at high school undermined the joy that literature can bring,
And so it feels only fitting to acknowledge just how far you have brought us, the miles.
So here’s to you, good man, for being patient while you waited for us to sing. Ca-ching,
In your words, nothing is lost as we carry our experience with us forever, with smiles.