Question

谁有威廉·布莱克《天真的预示》的英文原诗？

威廉·布莱克《天真的预示》中文是：“一颗沙中看出一个世界，一朵花里看出一座天堂，把无限放在你的手上掌，把永恒在一刹那收藏。”我想找英文原诗。

Answer 1

　　Auguries of Innocenceby
　　William Blake

　　To see a World in a Grain of Sand
　　And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
　　Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
　　And Eternity in an hour.

　　A Robin Red breast in a Cage
　　Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
　　A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons
　　Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
　　A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
　　Predicts the ruin of the State.
　　A Horse misus'd upon the Road
　　Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
　　Each outcry of the hunted Hare
　　A fibre from the Brain does tear.
　　A Skylark wounded in the wing,
　　A Cherubim does cease to sing.
　　The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight
　　Does the Rising Sun affright.
　　Every Wolf's & Lion's howl
　　Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
　　The wild deer, wand'ring here & there,
　　Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
　　The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife
　　And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
　　The Bat that flits at close of Eve
　　Has left the Brain that won't believe.
　　The Owl that calls upon the Night
　　Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
　　He who shall hurt the little Wren
　　Shall never be belov'd by Men.
　　He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd
　　Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
　　The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
　　Shall feel the Spider's enmity.
　　He who torments the Chafer's sprite
　　Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
　　The Caterpillar on the Leaf
　　Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief.
　　Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
　　For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
　　He who shall train the Horse to War
　　Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
　　The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat,
　　Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.
　　The Gnat that sings his Summer's song
　　Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
　　The poison of the Snake & Newt
　　Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
　　The poison of the Honey Bee
　　Is the Artist's Jealousy.
　　The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags
　　Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.
　　A truth that's told with bad intent
　　Beats all the Lies you can invent.
　　It is right it should be so;
　　Man was made for Joy & Woe;
　　And when this we rightly know
　　Thro' the World we safely go.
　　Joy & Woe are woven fine,
　　A Clothing for the Soul divine;
　　Under every grief & pine
　　Runs a joy with silken twine.
　　The Babe is more than swaddling Bands;
　　Throughout all these Human Lands
　　Tools were made, & born were hands,
　　Every Farmer Understands.
　　Every Tear from Every Eye
　　Becomes a Babe in Eternity.
　　This is caught by Females bright
　　And return'd to its own delight.
　　The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar
　　Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.
　　The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
　　Writes Revenge in realms of death.
　　The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,
　　Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
　　The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun,
　　Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.
　　The poor Man's Farthing is worth more
　　Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore.
　　One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands
　　Shall buy & sell the Miser's lands:
　　Or, if protected from on high,
　　Does that whole Nation sell & buy.
　　He who mocks the Infant's Faith
　　Shall be mock'd in Age & Death.
　　He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
　　The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.
　　He who respects the Infant's faith
　　Triumph's over Hell & Death.
　　The Child's Toys & the Old Man's Reasons
　　Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.
　　The Questioner, who sits so sly,
　　Shall never know how to Reply.
　　He who replies to words of Doubt
　　Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
　　The Strongest Poison ever known
　　Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
　　Nought can deform the Human Race
　　Like the Armour's iron brace.
　　When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
　　To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
　　A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry
　　Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
　　The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile
　　Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
　　He who Doubts from what he sees
　　Will ne'er believe, do what you Please.
　　If the Sun & Moon should doubt
　　They'd immediately Go out.
　　To be in a Passion you Good may do,
　　But no Good if a Passion is in you.
　　The Whore & Gambler, by the State
　　Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
　　The Harlot's cry from Street to Street
　　Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet.
　　The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse,
　　Dance before dead England's Hearse.
　　Every Night & every Morn
　　Some to Misery are Born.
　　Every Morn & every Night
　　Some are Born to sweet Delight.
　　Some are Born to sweet Delight,
　　Some are born to Endless Night.
　　We are led to Believe a Lie
　　When we see not Thro' the Eye
　　Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night
　　When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.
　　God Appears & God is Light
　　To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night,
　　But does a Human Form Display
　　To those who Dwell in Realms of day.