Ode To The Evening Star, Blakean *

Such an evening, eve,
Come let's sleep,
Under the canopy if the black blue sky,
Weaving Poetry for US
Infinite,
Comes,

O How Thou,
With Woodcarvings Thine,
Printing on papers old,
Embossed a print
On me, soul filled
With poesy unscathed,
Even after so years many,

And i invoke my Muse,
To come to bed,
Embedded we,
Turning free,
Silence seeping into us,
From the sky
Starry Starry
Luminous,

Coming down
Two angels
Having a watch
On our sleep so matched. (*Note: The picture attached was done by William Blake himself, as he carved on wood first, a carving such, before making it to print, the picture itself on page, which accompanied his poem titled 'To The Evening Star'.)