William Blake, for me, is one of the most profoundest of poets. I said, "for me", because, literature, like food, has its own taste and one man's food can be another man's poison. I, however doubt, if Blake's work will prove to be poisonous for anyone. Far from it, they are drops of dew, so tender and beautiful. The poem below is considered one of his finest and there were time when I used to meditate on the first 4 lines and yet couldn't marvel enough at its beauty.

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.