The fields from Islington to Marybone / To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood / Were builded over with pillars of gold, / And there Jerusalem's pillars stood.

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Explore More Quotes by William Blake

If a thing loves it is infinite.

If a thing loves it is infinite.

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings

Shame is pride's cloak.

Shame is pride's cloak.

The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.

The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.

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