1. |
Morning
03:18
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To find the Western path
Right thro' the Gates of Wrath
I urge my way.
Sweet Mercy leads me on,
With soft repentant moan
I see the break of day.
The war of swords & spears
Melted by dewy tears
Exhales on high.
The Sun is freed from fears
And with soft grateful tears
Ascends the sky.
William Blake
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2. |
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Memory, hither come,
And tune your merry notes ;
And, while upon the wind
Your music floats,
I'll pore upon stream
Where sighing lovers dream,
And fish for fancies as they pass
Within the watery glass.
I'll drink of the clear stream,
And hear the linnet's song ;
And there I'll lie and dream
The day along :
And when night comes, I'll go
To places fit for woe,
Walking along the darken'd valley
With silent Melancholy.
William Blake
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3. |
The Garden of Love
04:14
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I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen :
A chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And "Thou shalt not" writ over the door ;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love
That so many flowers bore ;
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be ;
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
William Blake
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Thibet City Of Brussels, Belgium
THIBET’s songs levitate and hover aboveground escaping physical gravity to achieve weightlessness. Even at its more
expansive, the band keeps up its aether talk, and looks skyward, plunging head-on inside a hall of stained-glass mirrors, slowly building a basilica that turns out to be a granite spaceship.
Contact :
info@thibetband.be
... more
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