See.

He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
They’d immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licenc’d build that Nation’s Fate
The Harlot’s cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England’s winding Sheet
The Winner’s Shout the Loser’s Curse
Dance before dead England’s Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

William Blake, from "Auguries of Innocence"