William Blake Quote

What is the price of Experience? Do men buy it for a song? Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No, it is bought with the priceOf all that a man hath, his house, his wife, his childrenWisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buyAnd in the wither'd field where the farmer ploughs for bread in vain It is an easy thing to triumph in the summer's sunAnd in the vintage and to sing on the waggon loaded with cornIt is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflictedTo speak the laws of prudence to the homeless wandererTo listen to the hungry raven's cry in wintry seasonWhen the red blood is fill'd with wine and with the marrow of lambs It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elementsTo hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughterhouse moan;To see a god on every wind and a blessing on every blastTo hear sounds of love in the thunderstorm that destroys our enemies' house;To rejoice in the blight that covers his field and the sickness that cuts off his children While our olive and vine sing and laugh round our door and our children bring fruits and flowers Then the groan and the dolour are quite forgotten and the slave grinding at the millAnd the captive in chains and the poor in the prison and the soldier in the field When the shatter'd bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead