My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointed to the east, began to say:
“Look on the rising sun: there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
“And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
“For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
Saying, ‘Come out from the grove, my love and care
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice’,”
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy
I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father’s knee;
And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
**
Question: Do you see racism in this poem? If so, explain briefly.
BTW, William Blake, an English pre-Romantic, is one of my favorite poets.
10 comments
Comments feed for this article
September 24, 2008 at 6:32 pm
nessalynn77
Yes, if I understand it correctly, it seems to tell the story of a black boy who struggles with some degree of self-hate.
September 24, 2008 at 7:20 pm
helenl
Hi Nessa Lynn, Welcome to my blog. Thank you for your comment.
September 25, 2008 at 3:02 am
Skittles
Helen,
I would not have guessed that you are a Blake fan.
I would say this poem is best interpreted within an historical context. The controversy of slavery was intense at this time. Blake makes a statement in this poem that to God we are all one. We are souls without color.
WW
September 25, 2008 at 9:40 am
renaissanceguy
I see it as anti-racist, but knowing you, there is a punch line coming.
Where’s the racism in the poem?
September 25, 2008 at 11:14 am
helenl
Hi Wendy, In its historical text, yes. And slavery was intense. Okay.
Hi RG, Do you mean “other-wordly”?
September 25, 2008 at 7:20 pm
nessalynn77
Thanks for the welcome, helenl. I guess I have an aversion to the tone that suggests the speaker is putting himself below his fairer-skinned counterpart and longing for his love as if it’s some sort of validation. Perspective is everything, though.
September 25, 2008 at 8:00 pm
helenl
Hi Nessa Lynn,
I didn’t want to say anything that would be leading others. And it’s true we have to keep the historical period in mind. Slavery was condoned by English society in the 1700’s. I don’t know the exact date of Songs of Experience from which this was taken, but it was prior to 1778 when William Wordsworth published his first volume of poetry.
Regardless of time, slavery was an outgrowth of racism. And to think that racial self-hatred is all right because we’ll all be equal in heaven (which is true, we will) is truly sick. It reminds me of Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. Have you read that?
September 26, 2008 at 4:53 am
renaissanceguy
I don’t see racial self-hatred in the poem.
What I see is a confident assurance that in God’s eyes, the black-skinned people are equal to the white-skinned people. Also a trust that they will be vindicated in heaven where they, because they are oppressed now, will get to be closer to Jesus then.
There is almost a smugness that the black boy will teach the white boy a lesson once they are both in heaven.
September 26, 2008 at 12:00 pm
helenl
Rg, The English Romantics glorified children, nature, and people from “exotic lands” as being “closer to God.” And for a long time I thought they were Pantheists. Later, however, I realized they were Panentheists. Blake was a Christian who kind of “rolled his own.”
To the poem:
“My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!”
There’s the exotic land, glorified, but the black boy is not happy with his body but comforts himself with the fact that he has a pure soul.
“White as an angel is the English child,”
The English child looks like an angel.
“But I am black, as if bereaved of light.”
Not me. I didn’t get “the light.” That’s not self hatred? Come on!
“My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointed to the east, began to say:”
But his mother explains, as mother’s do.
“Look on the rising sun: there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.”
God gives light and heat, and we are what we are. Goodness comes from God.
“And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.”
We wear our bodies just a little while. But the black boy has a “sunburnt face.” Even nature’s against him. (Read; he’s inferior.)
“For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
Saying, ‘Come out from the grove, my love and care
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice’,”
We’ll be called to heaven.
“Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy”
So the black boy explains what his mother told him to the white boy.
“I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father’s knee;
It’s the black boy’s job to “shade” the white boy. They aren’t equals. If they were, they’d take turns. But no, the black boy must keep the heat away form the white child until he can take it. It’s the black boy’s job to be spiritually stronger.
“And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.”
Guess the white boy ain’t so young any more. He has “silver hair” now. Maybe he’s dead (not sure). But then, the white boy love will the black boy. Until then, it’s the black boy’s job to serve (until the white child “gets it.”
Okay, so where is the white boy’s mother? Off doing her mistressly thing? The black boy’s mother (the Mammy) takes care of both both. But her child must act stronger. She must teach her own son what it is to be a slave with hopes of equality in the “next world.” She know they won’t be equal in this world and must teach her son accordingly. There is equality, but only in heaven.
September 27, 2008 at 10:52 am
My Reading of Blake’s “The Little Black Boy” « Significant Pursuit by Renaissance Guy
[...] blog entry about the poem “The Little Black Boy” by WIlliam Blake. She asks whether there is racism in the poem, and then some other commenters and I chimed in. Here’s my interpretation of the [...]