Blake saw a treeful of angels at Peckham Rye, br And his hands could lay hold on the tiger's terrible heart. br Blake knew how deep is Hell, and Heaven how high, br And could build the universe from one tiny part. br Blake heard the asides of God, as with furrowed brow br He sifts the star-streams between the Then and the Now, br In vast infant sagacity brooding, an infant's grace br Shining serene on his simple, benignant face. br br Blake was mad, they say, -- and Space's Pandora-box br Loosed its wonders upon him -- devils, but angels indeed. br I, they say, am sane, but no key of mine unlocks br One lock of one gate wherethrough Heaven's glory is freed.