As these recently uncovered first drafts show, William Blake was, amongst his many other talents, a keen cabbage grower...

From: Songs of Cabbages and Expedience

The Sick Cabbage

O Cabbage! You are sick!
A loathsome caterpillar
fat and crawling, hairy stick
Is, I fear, a cabbage killer!

It sought you out
and gores your leaves
I see your holes,
and my heart grieves!


The Cabbage


Cabbage, cabbage, firm and round!
In the cold and sodden ground.
What tiny fragile planted seed
Could grow such sturdy winter feed?

In what distant soil there lies a
Compost heap or fertiliser
Rich enough to feed you so
To build you up and make you grow?

When that Gardener most profound
Scattered seed on fertile ground
Did He foresee, please tell me true,
Did He who made the sprout make you?

Cabbage, cabbage, firm and round!
In the cold and sodden ground.
Such a tiny fragile seed
To grow such sturdy winter feed!