{"id":78161,"date":"2024-10-13T17:07:47","date_gmt":"2024-10-13T16:07:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.taxresearch.org.uk\/Blog\/?p=78161"},"modified":"2024-10-13T17:11:27","modified_gmt":"2024-10-13T16:11:27","slug":"to-see-the-world-in-a-grain-of-sand","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.taxresearch.org.uk\/Blog\/2024\/10\/13\/to-see-the-world-in-a-grain-of-sand\/","title":{"rendered":"To see the world in a grain of sand"},"content":{"rendered":"

I needed time to think today.<\/p>\n

Yesterday was harder than I thought it would be. Clearing my late father's home following the death of my stepmother awoke far more memories than I expected.<\/p>\n

Alex Salmond's death was also shocking in a number of ways, not least because I just presumed we'd carry on talking and working together for some time to come, and now we won't. We all know we're mortal, but sometimes fate seeks to remind us of it.<\/p>\n

So, I was out walking today. We had tea this afternoon in the shadow of the cathedral here in Ely:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

And I took pictures of dahlias in the border at the bottom of that photo:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

And then I began to play with those photos:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Each flower was amazing, but the photos let me see them in a different way, and isn't that the point of taking pictures?<\/p>\n

Discussing this, we were reminded of a poem by Blake<\/a> that begins:<\/p>\n

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
\nAnd a Heaven in a Wild Flower<\/p>\n

Those dahlias are not wildflowers, but they are like grains of sand in a world that too often just walks on by.<\/p>\n

I was going to leave it there, but having re-read the poem I think it worth sharing in full. There's a lot in it:<\/p>\n

Auguries of Innocence<\/p>\n

By William Blake<\/p>\n

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
\nAnd a Heaven in a Wild Flower
\nHold Infinity in the palm of your hand
\nAnd Eternity in an hour
\nA Robin Red breast in a Cage
\nPuts all Heaven in a Rage
\nA Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
\nShudders Hell thr' all its regions
\nA dog starvd at his Masters Gate
\nPredicts the ruin of the State
\nA Horse misusd upon the Road
\nCalls to Heaven for Human blood
\nEach outcry of the hunted Hare
\nA fibre from the Brain does tear
\nA Skylark wounded in the wing
\nA Cherubim does cease to sing
\nThe Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
\nDoes the Rising Sun affright
\nEvery Wolfs & Lions howl
\nRaises from Hell a Human Soul
\nThe wild deer, wandring here & there
\nKeeps the Human Soul from Care
\nThe Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
\nAnd yet forgives the Butchers knife
\nThe Bat that flits at close of Eve
\nHas left the Brain that wont Believe
\nThe Owl that calls upon the Night
\nSpeaks the Unbelievers fright
\nHe who shall hurt the little Wren
\nShall never be belovd by Men
\nHe who the Ox to wrath has movd
\nShall never be by Woman lovd
\nThe wanton Boy that kills the Fly
\nShall feel the Spiders enmity
\nHe who torments the Chafers Sprite
\nWeaves a Bower in endless Night
\nThe Catterpiller on the Leaf
\nRepeats to thee thy Mothers grief
\nKill not the Moth nor Butterfly
\nFor the Last Judgment draweth nigh
\nHe who shall train the Horse to War
\nShall never pass the Polar Bar
\nThe Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
\nFeed them & thou wilt grow fat
\nThe Gnat that sings his Summers Song
\nPoison gets from Slanders tongue
\nThe poison of the Snake & Newt
\nIs the sweat of Envys Foot
\nThe poison of the Honey Bee
\nIs the Artists Jealousy
\nThe Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
\nAre Toadstools on the Misers Bags
\nA Truth thats told with bad intent
\nBeats all the Lies you can invent
\nIt is right it should be so
\nMan was made for Joy & Woe
\nAnd when this we rightly know
\nThro the World we safely go
\nJoy & Woe are woven fine
\nA Clothing for the soul divine
\nUnder every grief & pine
\nRuns a joy with silken twine
\nThe Babe is more than swadling Bands
\nThroughout all these Human Lands
\nTools were made & Born were hands
\nEvery Farmer Understands
\nEvery Tear from Every Eye
\nBecomes a Babe in Eternity
\nThis is caught by Females bright
\nAnd returnd to its own delight
\nThe Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
\nAre Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
\nThe Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
\nWrites Revenge in realms of Death
\nThe Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
\nDoes to Rags the Heavens tear
\nThe Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
\nPalsied strikes the Summers Sun
\nThe poor Mans Farthing is worth more
\nThan all the Gold on Africs Shore
\nOne Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
\nShall buy & sell the Misers Lands
\nOr if protected from on high
\nDoes that whole Nation sell & buy
\nHe who mocks the Infants Faith
\nShall be mockd in Age & Death
\nHe who shall teach the Child to Doubt
\nThe rotting Grave shall neer get out
\nHe who respects the Infants faith
\nTriumphs over Hell & Death
\nThe Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
\nAre the Fruits of the Two seasons
\nThe Questioner who sits so sly
\nShall never know how to Reply
\nHe who replies to words of Doubt
\nDoth put the Light of Knowledge out
\nThe Strongest Poison ever known
\nCame from Caesars Laurel Crown
\nNought can Deform the Human Race
\nLike to the Armours iron brace
\nWhen Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
\nTo peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
\nA Riddle or the Crickets Cry
\nIs to Doubt a fit Reply
\nThe Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
\nMake Lame Philosophy to smile
\nHe who Doubts from what he sees
\nWill neer Believe do what you Please
\nIf the Sun & Moon should Doubt
\nTheyd immediately Go out
\nTo be in a Passion you Good may Do
\nBut no Good if a Passion is in you
\nThe Whore & Gambler by the State
\nLicencd build that Nations Fate
\nThe Harlots cry from Street to Street
\nShall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
\nThe Winners Shout the Losers Curse
\nDance before dead Englands Hearse
\nEvery Night & every Morn
\nSome to Misery are Born
\nEvery Morn and every Night
\nSome are Born to sweet delight
\nSome are Born to sweet delight
\nSome are Born to Endless Night
\nWe are led to Believe a Lie
\nWhen we see not Thro the Eye
\nWhich was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
\nWhen the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
\nGod Appears & God is Light
\nTo those poor Souls who dwell in Night
\nBut does a Human Form Display
\nTo those who Dwell in Realms of day<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I needed time to think today. Yesterday was harder than I thought it would be. Clearing my late father’s home following the death of my
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