Monday, 21 September 2009

Poems of William Blake in txt speak


N did thOz fEt in Anshnt tIm
Wlk upon Englnd’s mwn10s grEn?
N wz th holy lam of God
On Englnd’s plesnt pastures sEn?
N did th cwntenance divIn
ShIn 4th upon hr clwded hilz?
N wz Jeruslm bilded hEr
Amng thEs drk satanic milz?
Brng me my bO of brnin gold!
Brng me my arowz of desIr!
Brng me my spEr! O clwds, unfold!
Brng me my chariot of fIr!
I wll nt Cs frm mntal fIt,
Nor shll my sord slEp in my hnd,
Til we hv bilt Jeruslm
In Englnd’s grn n plesnt lnd.

REds of Inocens

pipin dwn th valEs wild,
pipin sngs of plesnt glE,
on a clwd I saw a child,
n he lafin sed 2 me;
‘pIp a sng abwt a Lam!’
so I pIpd w/ mery chEr.
‘piper, pIp tht sng agen;’
so I pIpd: he wept 2 hEr.
‘drop thy pIp, thy hapE pIp;
sing thy sngs of hapE chEr!’
so I sung th sAm agen,
wIl he wept w/ joy 2 hEr.
‘piper, sit thE dwn n writ
in a buk tht all mA rEd.’
so he vanishd frm my sIt;
n I plukd a holO rEd.
n I mAd a rurl pen,
n I stand th water clEr,
n I rOt my hapE sngs
evry child mA joy 2 hEr.

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