In a previous blog piece I cited two lines from William Blake's epic poem The Price of Experience, which has to be one of the great "political" poems of all time. Blake's poem is a profound reminder that we must never turn away from injustice; that we must face the harsh and distressing realities of the world we live in.
Blake was a political radical who took an active interest in the social and political issues of his day. He abhored slavery and believed in racial and sexual equality. Patti Smith once wrote that William Blake saw what others did not.
Patti Smith is a long time fan of William Blake and in 2007 edited a collection of his poetry. When I saw her live in Melbourne in 2008 the song My Blakean Year (from her 2004 CD Trampin) was a concert highlight.
My Blakean year
Patti Smith
In my Blakean year
I was so disposed
Toward a mission yet unclear
Advancing pole by pole
Fortune breathed into my ear
Mouthed a simple ode
One road is paved in gold
One road is just a road
In my Blakean year
Such a woeful schism
The pain of our existence
Was not as I envisioned
Boots that trudged from track to track
Worn down to the sole
One road is paved in gold
One road is just a road
Boots that tread from track to track
Worn down to the sole
One road is paved in gold
One road is just a road
In my Blakean year
Temptation but a hiss
Just a shallow spear
Robed in cowardice
Brace yourself for bitter flackVan Morrison also recites Blake's poem in the song Let the Slave on his 1984 album A Sense of Wonder.
For a life sublime
A labyrinth of riches
Never shall unwind
The threads that bind the pilgrim's sack
Are stitched into the Blakean back
So throw off your stupid cloak
Embrace all that you fear
For joy will conquer all despair
In my Blakean year
Written by Patti Smith © 2004 Druse Music (ASCAP)
William Blake
The Price of Experience
What is the price of Experience? Do men buy it for a song?
Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No it is bought with the price
Of all that man hath, his house, his wife, his children.
Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy
And in the wither'd field where the farmer plows for bread in vain. It is an easy thing to triumph in the summer's sun
And in the vintage and to sing on the waggon loaded with corn.
It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted,
To speak the laws of prudence to the homeless wanderer
To listen to the hungry raven's cry in wintry season
When the red blood is fill'd with wine and with the marrow of lambs.
It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements
To hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughter house moan;
To see a god on every wind and a blessing on every blast
To hear sounds of love in the thunder storm that destroys our enemies' house;
To rejoice in the blight that covers his field, and the sickness that cuts off his children,
While our olive and vine sing and laugh round our door, and our children bring fruits and flowers
Then the groan and the dolor are quite forgotten, and the slave grinding at the mill
And the captive in chains and the poor in the prison and the soldier in the field
When the shatter'd bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead
It is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity;
Thus could I sing and thus rejoice: but it is not so with me
6 comments:
This may seem like a random comment to leave, and for that I will apologise. However, I have an exam on this extract, and until you spelled out to me that it was a political poem, I was struggling to find anything to talk about!
Basically, thanks for giving me a gentle nudge in the right direction!
This may seem like a random comment to leave, and for that I will apologise. However, I have an exam on this extract, and until you spelled out to me that it was a political poem, I was struggling to find anything to talk about!
Basically, thanks for giving me a gentle nudge in the right direction!
Cheers Per and thanks for your interest and comments. Certainly not a random comment at all. Glad the post on Blake's poem was of some use. Yes I know what you mean sometimes. Trying to make sense of poetry is hard enough, but having to do it for a exam- that's tough. I must admit I read this poem for a number of years before I started to make sense of it. Reading it as words on the page and trying to unpack it is hard. Hearing it in song helped me to listen to the words and bought the imagery alive more for me. Good luck with the exam.
I first heard blake's epic ditty 20 odd years ago whilst at a gnostic mass,thought provoking stuff,blake is also a gnostic saint.
You might be interested to know that another musician - Mike Westbrook - used this and other Blake poems which he set to music in two records (one of which, Bright As Fire, my personal favourite, is out of print, I think). I recommend you try out Mike Westbrook's Glad Day double cd. His rendition of Blake's poems are extremely appropriate and in some cases even glorious. It is a completely different style than Patti Smith's or Van Morrison's but worth listening to. Nice blog, by the way.
This sends a tingle up my spine every time I read it. It's a fantastic piece of writing. Among Blake's best. But can I respectfully point out that it is not from an epic poem called 'The Price of Experience'. No such poem exists. It is a short extract from 'Night Two' of a long work (Blake called it a 'prophesy') entitled Vala, or 'The Four Zoas'.
It is still amazing, though.
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