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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, by William Blake
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience
+
+Author: William Blake
+
+Release Date: October, 1999 [eBook #1934]
+[Most recently updated: December 24, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: David Price
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND OF EXPERIENCE ***
+
+          [Picture: Image of Blake’s original page of The Tyger]
+
+
+
+
+
+                            SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+                                   AND
+                              OF EXPERIENCE
+
+
+                             BY WILLIAM BLAKE
+
+                 [Picture: The Astolaf Press, Guildford]
+
+                       LONDON: R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON.
+                         GUILDFORD: A. C. CURTIS.
+
+                                 MDCCCCI.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+             SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+
+Introduction
+The Shepherd
+The Echoing Green
+The Lamb
+The Little Black Boy
+The Blossom
+The Chimney-Sweeper
+The Little Boy Lost
+The Little Boy Found
+Laughing Song
+A Cradle Song
+The Divine Image
+Holy Thursday
+Night
+Spring
+Nurse’s Song
+Infant Joy
+A Dream
+On Another’s Sorrow
+
+             SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+Introduction
+Earth’s Answer
+The Clod and the Pebble
+Holy Thursday
+The Little Girl Lost
+The Little Girl Found
+The Chimney-Sweeper
+Nurse’s Song
+The Sick Rose
+The Fly
+The Angel
+The Tiger
+My Pretty Rose-Tree
+Ah, Sunflower
+The Lily
+The Garden of Love
+The Little Vagabond
+London
+The Human Abstract
+Infant Sorrow
+A Poison Tree
+A Little Boy Lost
+A Little Girl Lost
+A Divine Image
+A Cradle Song
+To Tirzah
+The Schoolboy
+The Voice of the Ancient Bard
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+Piping down the valleys wild,
+    Piping songs of pleasant glee,
+On a cloud I saw a child,
+    And he laughing said to me:
+
+‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’
+    So I piped with merry cheer.
+‘Piper, pipe that song again.’
+    So I piped: he wept to hear.
+
+‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
+    Sing thy songs of happy cheer!’
+So I sung the same again,
+    While he wept with joy to hear.
+
+‘Piper, sit thee down and write
+    In a book, that all may read.’
+So he vanished from my sight;
+    And I plucked a hollow reed,
+
+And I made a rural pen,
+    And I stained the water clear,
+And I wrote my happy songs
+    Every child may joy to hear.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD
+
+
+How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot!
+From the morn to the evening he strays;
+He shall follow his sheep all the day,
+And his tongue shall be fillèd with praise.
+
+For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,
+And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;
+He is watchful while they are in peace,
+For they know when their shepherd is nigh.
+
+
+
+
+THE ECHOING GREEN
+
+
+The sun does arise,
+And make happy the skies;
+The merry bells ring
+To welcome the Spring;
+The skylark and thrush,
+The birds of the bush,
+Sing louder around
+To the bells’ cheerful sound;
+While our sports shall be seen
+On the echoing green.
+
+Old John, with white hair,
+Does laugh away care,
+Sitting under the oak,
+Among the old folk.
+They laugh at our play,
+And soon they all say,
+‘Such, such were the joys
+When we all—girls and boys—
+In our youth-time were seen
+On the echoing green.’
+
+Till the little ones, weary,
+No more can be merry:
+The sun does descend,
+And our sports have an end.
+Round the laps of their mothers
+Many sisters and brothers,
+Like birds in their nest,
+Are ready for rest,
+And sport no more seen
+On the darkening green.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAMB
+
+
+Little lamb, who made thee?
+Does thou know who made thee,
+Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
+By the stream and o’er the mead;
+Gave thee clothing of delight,
+Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
+Gave thee such a tender voice,
+Making all the vales rejoice?
+    Little lamb, who made thee?
+    Does thou know who made thee?
+
+Little lamb, I’ll tell thee;
+Little lamb, I’ll tell thee:
+He is callèd by thy name,
+For He calls Himself a Lamb.
+He is meek, and He is mild,
+He became a little child.
+I a child, and thou a lamb,
+We are callèd by His name.
+    Little lamb, God bless thee!
+    Little lamb, God bless thee!
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
+
+
+My mother bore me in the southern wild,
+    And I am black, but O 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 kissèd me,
+    And, pointing 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
+    Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
+
+‘For, when our souls have learned 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.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLOSSOM
+
+
+Merry, merry sparrow!
+Under leaves so green
+    A happy blossom
+Sees you, swift as arrow,
+Seek your cradle narrow,
+    Near my bosom.
+
+Pretty, pretty robin!
+Under leaves so green
+    A happy blossom
+Hears you sobbing, sobbing,
+Pretty, pretty robin,
+    Near my bosom.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
+
+
+When my mother died I was very young,
+And my father sold me while yet my tongue
+Could scarcely cry ‘Weep! weep! weep! weep!’
+So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
+
+There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
+That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved; so I said,
+‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head’s bare,
+You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
+
+And so he was quiet, and that very night,
+As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—
+That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
+Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
+
+And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
+And he opened the coffins, and set them all free;
+Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run
+And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
+
+Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
+They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind:
+And the angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
+He’d have God for his father, and never want joy.
+
+And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
+And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
+Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:
+So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BOY LOST
+
+
+‘Father, father, where are you going?
+    O do not walk so fast!
+Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
+    Or else I shall be lost.’
+
+The night was dark, no father was there,
+    The child was wet with dew;
+The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
+    And away the vapour flew.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
+
+
+The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
+    Led by the wandering light,
+Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
+    Appeared like his father, in white.
+
+He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
+    And to his mother brought,
+Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
+    Her little boy weeping sought.
+
+
+
+
+LAUGHING SONG
+
+
+When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
+And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
+When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
+And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
+
+When the meadows laugh with lively green,
+And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
+When Mary and Susan and Emily
+With their sweet round mouths sing ‘Ha ha he!’
+
+When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
+Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
+Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
+To sing the sweet chorus of ‘Ha ha he!’
+
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+Sweet dreams, form a shade
+O’er my lovely infant’s head!
+Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
+By happy, silent, moony beams!
+
+Sweet Sleep, with soft down
+Weave thy brows an infant crown!
+Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
+Hover o’er my happy child!
+
+Sweet smiles, in the night
+Hover over my delight!
+Sweet smiles, mother’s smiles,
+All the livelong night beguiles.
+
+Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
+Chase not slumber from thy eyes!
+Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
+All the dovelike moans beguiles.
+
+Sleep, sleep, happy child!
+All creation slept and smiled.
+Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
+While o’er thee thy mother weep.
+
+Sweet babe, in thy face
+Holy image I can trace;
+Sweet babe, once like thee
+Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
+
+Wept for me, for thee, for all,
+When He was an infant small.
+Thou His image ever see,
+Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
+
+Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
+Who became an infant small;
+Infant smiles are His own smiles;
+Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
+
+
+
+
+THE DIVINE IMAGE
+
+
+To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+    All pray in their distress,
+And to these virtues of delight
+    Return their thankfulness.
+
+For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+    Is God our Father dear;
+And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+    Is man, His child and care.
+
+For Mercy has a human heart;
+    Pity, a human face;
+And Love, the human form divine:
+    And Peace the human dress.
+
+Then every man, of every clime,
+    That prays in his distress,
+Prays to the human form divine:
+    Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
+
+And all must love the human form,
+    In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
+Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
+    There God is dwelling too.
+
+
+
+
+HOLY THURSDAY
+
+
+’Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
+The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green:
+Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
+Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames waters flow.
+
+O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
+Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.
+The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
+Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
+
+Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
+Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
+Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.
+Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+
+The sun descending in the West,
+The evening star does shine;
+The birds are silent in their nest,
+And I must seek for mine.
+The moon, like a flower
+In heaven’s high bower,
+With silent delight,
+Sits and smiles on the night.
+
+Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
+Where flocks have took delight,
+Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
+The feet of angels bright;
+Unseen, they pour blessing,
+And joy without ceasing,
+On each bud and blossom,
+And each sleeping bosom.
+
+They look in every thoughtless nest
+Where birds are covered warm;
+They visit caves of every beast,
+To keep them all from harm:
+If they see any weeping
+That should have been sleeping,
+They pour sleep on their head,
+And sit down by their bed.
+
+When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
+They pitying stand and weep;
+Seeking to drive their thirst away,
+And keep them from the sheep.
+But, if they rush dreadful,
+The angels, most heedful,
+Receive each mild spirit,
+New worlds to inherit.
+
+And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
+Shall flow with tears of gold:
+And pitying the tender cries,
+And walking round the fold:
+Saying: ‘Wrath by His meekness,
+And, by His health, sickness,
+Is driven away
+From our immortal day.
+
+‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
+I can lie down and sleep,
+Or think on Him who bore thy name,
+Graze after thee, and weep.
+For, washed in life’s river,
+My bright mane for ever
+Shall shine like the gold,
+As I guard o’er the fold.
+
+
+
+
+SPRING
+
+
+      Sound the flute!
+      Now it’s mute!
+      Birds delight,
+      Day and night,
+      Nightingale,
+      In the dale,
+      Lark in sky,—
+      Merrily,
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+
+      Little boy,
+      Full of joy;
+      Little girl,
+      Sweet and small;
+      Cock does crow,
+      So do you;
+      Merry voice,
+      Infant noise;
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+
+      Little lamb,
+      Here I am;
+      Come and lick
+      My white neck;
+      Let me pull
+      Your soft wool;
+      Let me kiss
+      Your soft face;
+Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.
+
+
+
+
+NURSE’S SONG
+
+
+When voices of children are heard on the green,
+    And laughing is heard on the hill,
+My heart is at rest within my breast,
+    And everything else is still.
+
+‘Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
+    And the dews of night arise;
+Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,
+    Till the morning appears in the skies.’
+
+‘No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
+    And we cannot go to sleep;
+Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
+    And the hills are all covered with sheep.’
+
+‘Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
+    And then go home to bed.’
+The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
+    And all the hills echoèd.
+
+
+
+
+INFANT JOY
+
+
+‘I have no name;
+I am but two days old.’
+What shall I call thee?
+‘I happy am,
+Joy is my name.’
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+
+Pretty joy!
+Sweet joy, but two days old.
+Sweet joy I call thee:
+Thou dost smile,
+I sing the while;
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+
+
+
+
+A DREAM
+
+
+Once a dream did weave a shade
+O’er my angel-guarded bed,
+That an emmet lost its way
+Where on grass methought I lay.
+
+Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
+Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
+Over many a tangled spray,
+All heart-broke, I heard her say:
+
+‘O my children! do they cry,
+Do they hear their father sigh?
+Now they look abroad to see,
+Now return and weep for me.’
+
+Pitying, I dropped a tear:
+But I saw a glow-worm near,
+Who replied, ‘What wailing wight
+Calls the watchman of the night?’
+
+‘I am set to light the ground,
+While the beetle goes his round:
+Follow now the beetle’s hum;
+Little wanderer, hie thee home!’
+
+
+
+
+ON ANOTHER’S SORROW
+
+
+Can I see another’s woe,
+And not be in sorrow too?
+Can I see another’s grief,
+And not seek for kind relief?
+
+Can I see a falling tear,
+And not feel my sorrow’s share?
+Can a father see his child
+Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
+
+Can a mother sit and hear
+An infant groan, an infant fear?
+No, no! never can it be!
+Never, never can it be!
+
+And can He who smiles on all
+Hear the wren with sorrows small,
+Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
+Hear the woes that infants bear—
+
+And not sit beside the nest,
+Pouring pity in their breast,
+And not sit the cradle near,
+Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
+
+And not sit both night and day,
+Wiping all our tears away?
+O no! never can it be!
+Never, never can it be!
+
+He doth give His joy to all:
+He becomes an infant small,
+He becomes a man of woe,
+He doth feel the sorrow too.
+
+Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
+And thy Maker is not by:
+Think not thou canst weep a tear,
+And thy Maker is not near.
+
+O He gives to us His joy,
+That our grief He may destroy:
+Till our grief is fled and gone
+He doth sit by us and moan.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+    Hear the voice of the Bard,
+Who present, past, and future, sees;
+    Whose ears have heard
+    The Holy Word
+That walked among the ancient trees;
+
+    Calling the lapséd soul,
+And weeping in the evening dew;
+    That might control
+    The starry pole,
+And fallen, fallen light renew!
+
+    ‘O Earth, O Earth, return!
+Arise from out the dewy grass!
+    Night is worn,
+    And the morn
+Rises from the slumbrous mass.
+
+    ‘Turn away no more;
+Why wilt thou turn away?
+    The starry floor,
+    The watery shore,
+Is given thee till the break of day.’
+
+
+
+
+EARTH’S ANSWER
+
+
+    Earth raised up her head
+From the darkness dread and drear,
+        Her light fled,
+        Stony, dread,
+And her locks covered with grey despair.
+
+    ‘Prisoned on watery shore,
+Starry jealousy does keep my den
+        Cold and hoar;
+        Weeping o’er,
+I hear the father of the ancient men.
+
+    ‘Selfish father of men!
+Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
+        Can delight,
+        Chained in night,
+The virgins of youth and morning bear.
+
+    ‘Does spring hide its joy,
+When buds and blossoms grow?
+        Does the sower
+        Sow by night,
+Or the ploughman in darkness plough?
+
+    ‘Break this heavy chain,
+That does freeze my bones around!
+        Selfish, vain,
+        Eternal bane,
+That free love with bondage bound.’
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE
+
+
+‘Love seeketh not itself to please,
+    Nor for itself hath any care,
+But for another gives its ease,
+    And builds a heaven in hell’s despair.’
+
+So sung a little clod of clay,
+    Trodden with the cattle’s feet,
+But a pebble of the brook
+    Warbled out these metres meet:
+
+‘Love seeketh only Self to please,
+    To bind another to its delight,
+Joys in another’s loss of ease,
+    And builds a hell in heaven’s despite.’
+
+
+
+
+HOLY THURSDAY
+
+
+Is this a holy thing to see
+    In a rich and fruitful land,—
+Babes reduced to misery,
+    Fed with cold and usurous hand?
+
+Is that trembling cry a song?
+    Can it be a song of joy?
+And so many children poor?
+    It is a land of poverty!
+
+And their sun does never shine,
+    And their fields are bleak and bare,
+And their ways are filled with thorns,
+    It is eternal winter there.
+
+For where’er the sun does shine,
+    And where’er the rain does fall,
+Babe can never hunger there,
+    Nor poverty the mind appal.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL LOST
+
+
+In futurity
+I prophesy
+That the earth from sleep
+(Grave the sentence deep)
+
+Shall arise, and seek
+For her Maker meek;
+And the desert wild
+Become a garden mild.
+
+In the southern clime,
+Where the summer’s prime
+Never fades away,
+Lovely Lyca lay.
+
+Seven summers old
+Lovely Lyca told.
+She had wandered long,
+Hearing wild birds’ song.
+
+‘Sweet sleep, come to me,
+Underneath this tree;
+Do father, mother, weep?
+Where can Lyca sleep?
+
+‘Lost in desert wild
+Is your little child.
+How can Lyca sleep
+If her mother weep?
+
+‘If her heart does ache,
+Then let Lyca wake;
+If my mother sleep,
+Lyca shall not weep.
+
+‘Frowning, frowning night,
+O’er this desert bright
+Let thy moon arise,
+While I close my eyes.’
+
+Sleeping Lyca lay,
+While the beasts of prey,
+Come from caverns deep,
+Viewed the maid asleep.
+
+The kingly lion stood,
+And the virgin viewed:
+Then he gambolled round
+O’er the hallowed ground.
+
+Leopards, tigers, play
+Round her as she lay;
+While the lion old
+Bowed his mane of gold,
+
+And her bosom lick,
+And upon her neck,
+From his eyes of flame,
+Ruby tears there came;
+
+While the lioness
+Loosed her slender dress,
+And naked they conveyed
+To caves the sleeping maid.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND
+
+
+All the night in woe
+Lyca’s parents go
+Over valleys deep,
+While the deserts weep.
+
+Tired and woe-begone,
+Hoarse with making moan,
+Arm in arm, seven days
+They traced the desert ways.
+
+Seven nights they sleep
+Among shadows deep,
+And dream they see their child
+Starved in desert wild.
+
+Pale through pathless ways
+The fancied image strays,
+Famished, weeping, weak,
+With hollow piteous shriek.
+
+Rising from unrest,
+The trembling woman pressed
+With feet of weary woe;
+She could no further go.
+
+In his arms he bore
+Her, armed with sorrow sore;
+Till before their way
+A couching lion lay.
+
+Turning back was vain:
+Soon his heavy mane
+Bore them to the ground,
+Then he stalked around,
+
+Smelling to his prey;
+But their fears allay
+When he licks their hands,
+And silent by them stands.
+
+They look upon his eyes,
+Filled with deep surprise;
+And wondering behold
+A spirit armed in gold.
+
+On his head a crown,
+On his shoulders down
+Flowed his golden hair.
+Gone was all their care.
+
+‘Follow me,’ he said;
+‘Weep not for the maid;
+In my palace deep,
+Lyca lies asleep.’
+
+Then they followèd
+Where the vision led,
+And saw their sleeping child
+Among tigers wild.
+
+To this day they dwell
+In a lonely dell,
+Nor fear the wolvish howl
+Nor the lion’s growl.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
+
+
+A little black thing among the snow,
+    Crying! ‘weep! weep!’ in notes of woe!
+‘Where are thy father and mother? Say!’—
+    ‘They are both gone up to the church to pray.
+
+‘Because I was happy upon the heath,
+    And smiled among the winter’s snow,
+They clothed me in the clothes of death,
+    And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
+
+‘And because I am happy and dance and sing,
+    They think they have done me no injury,
+And are gone to praise God and His priest and king,
+    Who made up a heaven of our misery.’
+
+
+
+
+NURSE’S SONG
+
+
+When the voices of children are heard on the green,
+    And whisperings are in the dale,
+The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
+    My face turns green and pale.
+
+Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
+    And the dews of night arise;
+Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
+    And your winter and night in disguise.
+
+
+
+
+THE SICK ROSE
+
+
+O rose, thou art sick!
+    The invisible worm,
+That flies in the night,
+    In the howling storm,
+
+Has found out thy bed
+    Of crimson joy,
+And his dark secret love
+    Does thy life destroy.
+
+
+
+
+THE FLY
+
+
+Little Fly,
+    Thy summer’s play
+My thoughtless hand
+    Has brushed away.
+
+Am not I
+    A fly like thee?
+Or art not thou
+    A man like me?
+
+For I dance,
+    And drink, and sing,
+Till some blind hand
+    Shall brush my wing.
+
+If thought is life
+    And strength and breath,
+And the want
+    Of thought is death;
+
+Then am I
+    A happy fly.
+If I live,
+    Or if I die.
+
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL
+
+
+I dreamt a dream!  What can it mean?
+And that I was a maiden Queen
+Guarded by an Angel mild:
+Witless woe was ne’er beguiled!
+
+And I wept both night and day,
+And he wiped my tears away;
+And I wept both day and night,
+And hid from him my heart’s delight.
+
+So he took his wings, and fled;
+Then the morn blushed rosy red.
+I dried my tears, and armed my fears
+With ten thousand shields and spears.
+
+Soon my Angel came again;
+I was armed, he came in vain;
+For the time of youth was fled,
+And grey hairs were on my head.
+
+
+
+
+THE TIGER
+
+
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright
+In the forests of the night,
+What immortal hand or eye
+Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
+
+In what distant deeps or skies
+Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
+On what wings dare he aspire?
+What the hand dare seize the fire?
+
+And what shoulder and what art
+Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
+And, when thy heart began to beat,
+What dread hand and what dread feet?
+
+What the hammer? what the chain?
+In what furnace was thy brain?
+What the anvil? what dread grasp
+Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
+
+When the stars threw down their spears,
+And watered heaven with their tears,
+Did He smile His work to see?
+Did He who made the lamb make thee?
+
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright
+In the forests of the night,
+What immortal hand or eye
+Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
+
+
+
+
+MY PRETTY ROSE TREE
+
+
+A flower was offered to me,
+    Such a flower as May never bore;
+But I said, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
+    And I passed the sweet flower o’er.
+
+Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
+    To tend her by day and by night;
+But my rose turned away with jealousy,
+    And her thorns were my only delight.
+
+
+
+
+AH, SUNFLOWER
+
+
+Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
+    Who countest the steps of the sun;
+Seeking after that sweet golden clime
+    Where the traveller’s journey is done;
+
+Where the Youth pined away with desire,
+    And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
+Arise from their graves, and aspire
+    Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
+
+
+
+
+THE LILY
+
+
+The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
+The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
+While the Lily white shall in love delight,
+Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
+
+
+
+
+THE GARDEN OF LOVE
+
+
+I went to the Garden of Love,
+    And saw what I never had seen;
+A Chapel was built in the midst,
+    Where I used to play on the green.
+
+And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
+    And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door;
+So I turned to the Garden of Love
+    That so many sweet flowers bore.
+
+And I saw it was filled with graves,
+    And tombstones where flowers should be;
+And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
+    And binding with briars my joys and desires.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE VAGABOND
+
+
+Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
+But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
+Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
+Such usage in heaven will never do well.
+
+But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
+And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
+We’d sing and we’d pray all the livelong day,
+Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
+
+Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
+And we’d be as happy as birds in the spring;
+And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
+Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
+
+And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
+His children as pleasant and happy as He,
+Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
+But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
+
+
+
+
+LONDON
+
+
+I wander through each chartered street,
+    Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
+A mark in every face I meet,
+    Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
+
+In every cry of every man,
+    In every infant’s cry of fear,
+In every voice, in every ban,
+    The mind-forged manacles I hear:
+
+How the chimney-sweeper’s cry
+    Every blackening church appals,
+And the hapless soldier’s sigh
+    Runs in blood down palace-walls.
+
+But most, through midnight streets I hear
+    How the youthful harlot’s curse
+Blasts the new-born infant’s tear,
+    And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
+
+
+
+
+THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
+
+
+Pity would be no more
+If we did not make somebody poor,
+And Mercy no more could be
+If all were as happy as we.
+
+And mutual fear brings Peace,
+Till the selfish loves increase;
+Then Cruelty knits a snare,
+And spreads his baits with care.
+
+He sits down with holy fears,
+And waters the ground with tears;
+Then Humility takes its root
+Underneath his foot.
+
+Soon spreads the dismal shade
+Of Mystery over his head,
+And the caterpillar and fly
+Feed on the Mystery.
+
+And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
+Ruddy and sweet to eat,
+And the raven his nest has made
+In its thickest shade.
+
+The gods of the earth and sea
+Sought through nature to find this tree,
+But their search was all in vain:
+There grows one in the human Brain.
+
+
+
+
+INFANT SORROW
+
+
+My mother groaned, my father wept:
+Into the dangerous world I leapt,
+Helpless, naked, piping loud,
+Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
+
+Struggling in my father’s hands,
+Striving against my swaddling bands,
+Bound and weary, I thought best
+To sulk upon my mother’s breast.
+
+
+
+
+A POISON TREE
+
+
+I was angry with my friend:
+I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
+I was angry with my foe:
+I told it not, my wrath did grow.
+
+And I watered it in fears
+Night and morning with my tears,
+And I sunnèd it with smiles
+And with soft deceitful wiles.
+
+And it grew both day and night,
+Till it bore an apple bright,
+And my foe beheld it shine,
+And he knew that it was mine,—
+
+And into my garden stole
+When the night had veiled the pole;
+In the morning, glad, I see
+My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE BOY LOST
+
+
+‘Nought loves another as itself,
+    Nor venerates another so,
+Nor is it possible to thought
+    A greater than itself to know.
+
+‘And, father, how can I love you
+    Or any of my brothers more?
+I love you like the little bird
+    That picks up crumbs around the door.’
+
+The Priest sat by and heard the child;
+    In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
+He led him by his little coat,
+    And all admired his priestly care.
+
+And standing on the altar high,
+    ‘Lo, what a fiend is here!’ said he:
+‘One who sets reason up for judge
+    Of our most holy mystery.’
+
+The weeping child could not be heard,
+    The weeping parents wept in vain:
+They stripped him to his little shirt,
+    And bound him in an iron chain,
+
+And burned him in a holy place
+    Where many had been burned before;
+The weeping parents wept in vain.
+    Are such things done on Albion’s shore?
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL LOST
+
+
+Children of the future age,
+Reading this indignant page,
+Know that in a former time
+Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
+
+In the age of gold,
+Free from winter’s cold,
+Youth and maiden bright,
+To the holy light,
+Naked in the sunny beams delight.
+
+Once a youthful pair,
+Filled with softest care,
+Met in garden bright
+Where the holy light
+Had just removed the curtains of the night.
+
+There, in rising day,
+On the grass they play;
+Parents were afar,
+Strangers came not near,
+And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
+
+Tired with kisses sweet,
+They agree to meet
+When the silent sleep
+Waves o’er heaven’s deep,
+And the weary tired wanderers weep.
+
+To her father white
+Came the maiden bright;
+But his loving look,
+Like the holy book,
+All her tender limbs with terror shook.
+
+Ona, pale and weak,
+To thy father speak!
+O the trembling fear!
+O the dismal care
+That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!’
+
+
+
+
+A DIVINE IMAGE
+
+
+Cruelty has a human heart,
+    And Jealousy a human face;
+Terror the human form divine,
+    And Secrecy the human dress.
+
+The human dress is forgèd iron,
+    The human form a fiery forge,
+The human face a furnace sealed,
+    The human heart its hungry gorge.
+
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
+Dreaming in the joys of night;
+Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
+Little sorrows sit and weep.
+
+Sweet babe, in thy face
+Soft desires I can trace,
+Secret joys and secret smiles,
+Little pretty infant wiles.
+
+As thy softest limbs I feel,
+Smiles as of the morning steal
+O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast
+Where thy little heart doth rest.
+
+O the cunning wiles that creep
+In thy little heart asleep!
+When thy little heart doth wake,
+Then the dreadful light shall break.
+
+
+
+
+TO TIRZAH
+
+
+Whate’er is born of mortal birth
+Must be consumèd with the earth,
+To rise from generation free:
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+
+The sexes sprung from shame and pride,
+Blowed in the morn, in evening died;
+But mercy changed death into sleep;
+The sexes rose to work and weep.
+
+Thou, mother of my mortal part,
+With cruelty didst mould my heart,
+And with false self-deceiving tears
+Didst blind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,
+
+Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,
+And me to mortal life betray.
+The death of Jesus set me free:
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+
+
+
+
+THE SCHOOLBOY
+
+
+I love to rise in a summer morn,
+    When the birds sing on every tree;
+The distant huntsman winds his horn,
+    And the skylark sings with me:
+    O what sweet company!
+
+But to go to school in a summer morn,—
+    O it drives all joy away!
+Under a cruel eye outworn,
+    The little ones spend the day
+    In sighing and dismay.
+
+Ah then at times I drooping sit,
+    And spend many an anxious hour;
+Nor in my book can I take delight,
+    Nor sit in learning’s bower,
+    Worn through with the dreary shower.
+
+How can the bird that is born for joy
+    Sit in a cage and sing?
+How can a child, when fears annoy,
+    But droop his tender wing,
+    And forget his youthful spring!
+
+O father and mother if buds are nipped,
+    And blossoms blown away;
+And if the tender plants are stripped
+    Of their joy in the springing day,
+    By sorrow and care’s dismay,—
+
+How shall the summer arise in joy,
+    Or the summer fruits appear?
+Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
+    Or bless the mellowing year,
+    When the blasts of winter appear?
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD
+
+
+Youth of delight! come hither
+And see the opening morn,
+Image of Truth new-born.
+Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
+Dark disputes and artful teazing.
+Folly is an endless maze;
+Tangled roots perplex her ways;
+How many have fallen there!
+They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
+And feel—they know not what but care;
+And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
+
+
+
+
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, by William Blake</title>
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, by William Blake</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
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+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: William Blake</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October, 1999 [eBook #1934]<br />
+[Most recently updated: December 24, 2021]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND OF EXPERIENCE ***</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/cover.jpg">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="380" height="600" alt="Illustration: cover" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h1>SONGS OF INNOCENCE<br />
+<span class="smcap">and</span><br />
+OF EXPERIENCE</h1>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">BY WILLIAM BLAKE</h2>
+
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p1b.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"The Astolaf Press, Guildford"
+title=
+"The Astolaf Press, Guildford"
+src="images/p1s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">london</span>:
+<span class="smcap">r. brimley johnson</span>.<br />
+<span class="smcap">guildford</span>: <span class="smcap">a. c.
+curtis</span>.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="smcap">mdcccci</span>.</p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song01"><b>SONGS OF INNOCENCE</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song02">Introduction</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song03">The Shepherd</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song04">The Echoing Green</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song05">The Lamb</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song06">The Little Black Boy</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song07">The Blossom</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song08">The Chimney-Sweeper</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song09">The Little Boy Lost</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song10">The Little Boy Found</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song11">Laughing Song</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song12">A Cradle Song</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song13">The Divine Image</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song14">Holy Thursday</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song15">Night</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song16">Spring</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song17">Nurse&rsquo;s Song</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song18">Infant Joy</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song19">A Dream</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song20">On Another&rsquo;s Sorrow</a><br /><br /></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song21"><b>SONGS OF EXPERIENCE</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song22">Introduction</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song23">Earth&rsquo;s Answer</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song24">The Clod and the Pebble</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song25">Holy Thursday</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song26">The Little Girl Lost</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song27">The Little Girl Found</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song28">The Chimney-Sweeper</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song29">Nurse&rsquo;s Song</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song30">The Sick Rose</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song31">The Fly</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song32">The Angel</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song33">The Tiger</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song34">My Pretty Rose-Tree</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song35">Ah, Sunflower</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song36">The Lily</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song37">The Garden of Love</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song38">The Little Vagabond</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song39">London</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song40">The Human Abstract</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song41">Infant Sorrow</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song42">A Poison Tree</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song43">A Little Boy Lost</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song44">A Little Girl Lost</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song45">A Divine Image</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song46">A Cradle Song</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song47">To Tirzah</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song48">The Schoolboy</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#song49">The Voice of the Ancient Bard</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img00.jpg">
+<img src="images/img00.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song01"></a>SONGS OF INNOCENCE</h2>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img01.jpg">
+<img src="images/img01.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song02"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Piping down the valleys wild,<br />
+    Piping songs of pleasant glee,<br />
+On a cloud I saw a child,<br />
+    And he laughing said to me:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Pipe a song about a Lamb!&rsquo;<br />
+    So I piped with merry cheer.<br />
+&lsquo;Piper, pipe that song again.&rsquo;<br />
+    So I piped: he wept to hear.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;<br />
+    Sing thy songs of happy cheer!&rsquo;<br />
+So I sung the same again,<br />
+    While he wept with joy to hear.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Piper, sit thee down and write<br />
+    In a book, that all may read.&rsquo;<br />
+So he vanished from my sight;<br />
+    And I plucked a hollow reed,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And I made a rural pen,<br />
+    And I stained the water clear,<br />
+And I wrote my happy songs<br />
+    Every child may joy to hear.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img02.jpg">
+<img src="images/img02.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song03"></a>THE SHEPHERD</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+How sweet is the shepherd&rsquo;s sweet lot!<br />
+From the morn to the evening he strays;<br />
+He shall follow his sheep all the day,<br />
+And his tongue shall be fillèd with praise.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+For he hears the lambs&rsquo; innocent call,<br />
+And he hears the ewes&rsquo; tender reply;<br />
+He is watchful while they are in peace,<br />
+For they know when their shepherd is nigh.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img03.jpg">
+<img src="images/img03.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song04"></a>THE ECHOING GREEN</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The sun does arise,<br />
+And make happy the skies;<br />
+The merry bells ring<br />
+To welcome the Spring;<br />
+The skylark and thrush,<br />
+The birds of the bush,<br />
+Sing louder around<br />
+To the bells&rsquo; cheerful sound;<br />
+While our sports shall be seen<br />
+On the echoing green.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Old John, with white hair,<br />
+Does laugh away care,<br />
+Sitting under the oak,<br />
+Among the old folk.<br />
+They laugh at our play,<br />
+And soon they all say,<br />
+&lsquo;Such, such were the joys<br />
+When we all&mdash;girls and boys&mdash;<br />
+In our youth-time were seen<br />
+On the echoing green.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Till the little ones, weary,<br />
+No more can be merry:<br />
+The sun does descend,<br />
+And our sports have an end.<br />
+Round the laps of their mothers<br />
+Many sisters and brothers,<br />
+Like birds in their nest,<br />
+Are ready for rest,<br />
+And sport no more seen<br />
+On the darkening green.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img04a.jpg">
+<img src="images/img04a.jpg" width="396" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img04b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img04b.jpg" width="383" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song05"></a>THE LAMB</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Little lamb, who made thee?<br />
+Does thou know who made thee,<br />
+Gave thee life, and bid thee feed<br />
+By the stream and o&rsquo;er the mead;<br />
+Gave thee clothing of delight,<br />
+Softest clothing, woolly, bright;<br />
+Gave thee such a tender voice,<br />
+Making all the vales rejoice?<br />
+    Little lamb, who made thee?<br />
+    Does thou know who made thee?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Little lamb, I&rsquo;ll tell thee;<br />
+Little lamb, I&rsquo;ll tell thee:<br />
+He is callèd by thy name,<br />
+For He calls Himself a Lamb.<br />
+He is meek, and He is mild,<br />
+He became a little child.<br />
+I a child, and thou a lamb,<br />
+We are callèd by His name.<br />
+    Little lamb, God bless thee!<br />
+    Little lamb, God bless thee!
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img05.jpg">
+<img src="images/img05.jpg" width="396" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song06"></a>THE LITTLE BLACK BOY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+My mother bore me in the southern wild,<br />
+    And I am black, but O my soul is white!<br />
+White as an angel is the English child,<br />
+    But I am black, as if bereaved of light.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+My mother taught me underneath a tree,<br />
+    And, sitting down before the heat of day,<br />
+She took me on her lap and kissèd me,<br />
+    And, pointing to the East, began to say:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Look on the rising sun: there God does live,<br />
+    And gives His light, and gives His heat away,<br />
+And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive<br />
+    Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;And we are put on earth a little space,<br />
+    That we may learn to bear the beams of love;<br />
+And these black bodies and this sunburnt face<br />
+    Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;For, when our souls have learned the heat to bear,<br />
+    The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,<br />
+Saying, &ldquo;Come out from the grove, my love and care,<br />
+    And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.&rdquo;&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Thus did my mother say, and kissed me,<br />
+    And thus I say to little English boy.<br />
+When I from black, and he from white cloud free,<br />
+    And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+I&rsquo;ll shade him from the heat till he can bear<br />
+    To lean in joy upon our Father&rsquo;s knee;<br />
+And then I&rsquo;ll stand and stroke his silver hair,<br />
+    And be like him, and he will then love me.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img06a.jpg">
+<img src="images/img06a.jpg" width="385" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img06b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img06b.jpg" width="382" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song07"></a>THE BLOSSOM</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Merry, merry sparrow!<br />
+Under leaves so green<br />
+    A happy blossom<br />
+Sees you, swift as arrow,<br />
+Seek your cradle narrow,<br />
+    Near my bosom.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Pretty, pretty robin!<br />
+Under leaves so green<br />
+    A happy blossom<br />
+Hears you sobbing, sobbing,<br />
+Pretty, pretty robin,<br />
+    Near my bosom.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img07.jpg">
+<img src="images/img07.jpg" width="414" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song08"></a>THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When my mother died I was very young,<br />
+And my father sold me while yet my tongue<br />
+Could scarcely cry &lsquo;Weep! weep! weep! weep!&rsquo;<br />
+So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+There&rsquo;s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,<br />
+That curled like a lamb&rsquo;s back, was shaved; so I said,<br />
+&lsquo;Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head&rsquo;s bare,<br />
+You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And so he was quiet, and that very night,<br />
+As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!&mdash;<br />
+That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,<br />
+Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And by came an angel, who had a bright key,<br />
+And he opened the coffins, and set them all free;<br />
+Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run<br />
+And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,<br />
+They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind:<br />
+And the angel told Tom, if he&rsquo;d be a good boy,<br />
+He&rsquo;d have God for his father, and never want joy.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,<br />
+And got with our bags and our brushes to work.<br />
+Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:<br />
+So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img08.jpg">
+<img src="images/img08.jpg" width="389" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song09"></a>THE LITTLE BOY LOST</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Father, father, where are you going?<br />
+    O do not walk so fast!<br />
+Speak, father, speak to your little boy,<br />
+    Or else I shall be lost.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The night was dark, no father was there,<br />
+    The child was wet with dew;<br />
+The mire was deep, and the child did weep,<br />
+    And away the vapour flew.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img09.jpg">
+<img src="images/img09.jpg" width="411" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song10"></a>THE LITTLE BOY FOUND</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The little boy lost in the lonely fen,<br />
+    Led by the wandering light,<br />
+Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,<br />
+    Appeared like his father, in white.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+He kissed the child, and by the hand led,<br />
+    And to his mother brought,<br />
+Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,<br />
+    Her little boy weeping sought.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img10.jpg">
+<img src="images/img10.jpg" width="379" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song11"></a>LAUGHING SONG</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,<br />
+And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;<br />
+When the air does laugh with our merry wit,<br />
+And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When the meadows laugh with lively green,<br />
+And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;<br />
+When Mary and Susan and Emily<br />
+With their sweet round mouths sing &lsquo;Ha ha he!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When the painted birds laugh in the shade,<br />
+Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:<br />
+Come live, and be merry, and join with me,<br />
+To sing the sweet chorus of &lsquo;Ha ha he!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img11.jpg">
+<img src="images/img11.jpg" width="374" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song12"></a>A CRADLE SONG</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sweet dreams, form a shade<br />
+O&rsquo;er my lovely infant&rsquo;s head!<br />
+Sweet dreams of pleasant streams<br />
+By happy, silent, moony beams!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sweet Sleep, with soft down<br />
+Weave thy brows an infant crown!<br />
+Sweet Sleep, angel mild,<br />
+Hover o&rsquo;er my happy child!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sweet smiles, in the night<br />
+Hover over my delight!<br />
+Sweet smiles, mother&rsquo;s smiles,<br />
+All the livelong night beguiles.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,<br />
+Chase not slumber from thy eyes!<br />
+Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,<br />
+All the dovelike moans beguiles.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sleep, sleep, happy child!<br />
+All creation slept and smiled.<br />
+Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,<br />
+While o&rsquo;er thee thy mother weep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sweet babe, in thy face<br />
+Holy image I can trace;<br />
+Sweet babe, once like thee<br />
+Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Wept for me, for thee, for all,<br />
+When He was an infant small.<br />
+Thou His image ever see,<br />
+Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Smiles on thee, on me, on all,<br />
+Who became an infant small;<br />
+Infant smiles are His own smiles;<br />
+Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img12a.jpg">
+<img src="images/img12a.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img12b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img12b.jpg" width="385" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song13"></a>THE DIVINE IMAGE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,<br />
+    All pray in their distress,<br />
+And to these virtues of delight<br />
+    Return their thankfulness.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,<br />
+    Is God our Father dear;<br />
+And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,<br />
+    Is man, His child and care.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+For Mercy has a human heart;<br />
+    Pity, a human face;<br />
+And Love, the human form divine:<br />
+    And Peace the human dress.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then every man, of every clime,<br />
+    That prays in his distress,<br />
+Prays to the human form divine:<br />
+    Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And all must love the human form,<br />
+    In heathen, Turk, or Jew.<br />
+Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,<br />
+    There God is dwelling too.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img13.jpg">
+<img src="images/img13.jpg" width="405" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song14"></a>HOLY THURSDAY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&rsquo;Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,<br />
+The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green:<br />
+Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,<br />
+Till into the high dome of Paul&rsquo;s they like Thames waters flow.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!<br />
+Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.<br />
+The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,<br />
+Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,<br />
+Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:<br />
+Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.<br />
+Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img14.jpg">
+<img src="images/img14.jpg" width="415" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song15"></a>NIGHT</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The sun descending in the West,<br />
+The evening star does shine;<br />
+The birds are silent in their nest,<br />
+And I must seek for mine.<br />
+The moon, like a flower<br />
+In heaven&rsquo;s high bower,<br />
+With silent delight,<br />
+Sits and smiles on the night.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Farewell, green fields and happy groves,<br />
+Where flocks have took delight,<br />
+Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves<br />
+The feet of angels bright;<br />
+Unseen, they pour blessing,<br />
+And joy without ceasing,<br />
+On each bud and blossom,<br />
+And each sleeping bosom.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+They look in every thoughtless nest<br />
+Where birds are covered warm;<br />
+They visit caves of every beast,<br />
+To keep them all from harm:<br />
+If they see any weeping<br />
+That should have been sleeping,<br />
+They pour sleep on their head,<br />
+And sit down by their bed.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When wolves and tigers howl for prey,<br />
+They pitying stand and weep;<br />
+Seeking to drive their thirst away,<br />
+And keep them from the sheep.<br />
+But, if they rush dreadful,<br />
+The angels, most heedful,<br />
+Receive each mild spirit,<br />
+New worlds to inherit.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And there the lion&rsquo;s ruddy eyes<br />
+Shall flow with tears of gold:<br />
+And pitying the tender cries,<br />
+And walking round the fold:<br />
+Saying: &lsquo;Wrath by His meekness,<br />
+And, by His health, sickness,<br />
+Is driven away<br />
+From our immortal day.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;And now beside thee, bleating lamb,<br />
+I can lie down and sleep,<br />
+Or think on Him who bore thy name,<br />
+Graze after thee, and weep.<br />
+For, washed in life&rsquo;s river,<br />
+My bright mane for ever<br />
+Shall shine like the gold,<br />
+As I guard o&rsquo;er the fold.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img15a.jpg">
+<img src="images/img15a.jpg" width="381" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img15b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img15b.jpg" width="378" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song16"></a>SPRING</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+        Sound the flute!<br />
+        Now it&rsquo;s mute!<br />
+        Birds delight,<br />
+        Day and night,<br />
+        Nightingale,<br />
+        In the dale,<br />
+        Lark in sky,&mdash;<br />
+        Merrily,<br />
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+        Little boy,<br />
+        Full of joy;<br />
+        Little girl,<br />
+        Sweet and small;<br />
+        Cock does crow,<br />
+        So do you;<br />
+        Merry voice,<br />
+        Infant noise;<br />
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+        Little lamb,<br />
+        Here I am;<br />
+        Come and lick<br />
+        My white neck;<br />
+        Let me pull<br />
+        Your soft wool;<br />
+        Let me kiss<br />
+        Your soft face;<br />
+Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img16a.jpg">
+<img src="images/img16a.jpg" width="445" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img16b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img16b.jpg" width="487" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song17"></a>NURSE&rsquo;S SONG</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When voices of children are heard on the green,<br />
+    And laughing is heard on the hill,<br />
+My heart is at rest within my breast,<br />
+    And everything else is still.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,<br />
+    And the dews of night arise;<br />
+Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,<br />
+    Till the morning appears in the skies.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,<br />
+    And we cannot go to sleep;<br />
+Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,<br />
+    And the hills are all covered with sheep.&rsquo;<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,<br />
+    And then go home to bed.&rsquo;<br />
+The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,<br />
+    And all the hills echoèd.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img17.jpg">
+<img src="images/img17.jpg" width="410" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song18"></a>INFANT JOY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;I have no name;<br />
+I am but two days old.&rsquo;<br />
+What shall I call thee?<br />
+&lsquo;I happy am,<br />
+Joy is my name.&rsquo;<br />
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Pretty joy!<br />
+Sweet joy, but two days old.<br />
+Sweet joy I call thee:<br />
+Thou dost smile,<br />
+I sing the while;<br />
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img18.jpg">
+<img src="images/img18.jpg" width="379" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song19"></a>A DREAM</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Once a dream did weave a shade<br />
+O&rsquo;er my angel-guarded bed,<br />
+That an emmet lost its way<br />
+Where on grass methought I lay.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,<br />
+Dark, benighted, travel-worn,<br />
+Over many a tangled spray,<br />
+All heart-broke, I heard her say:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;O my children! do they cry,<br />
+Do they hear their father sigh?<br />
+Now they look abroad to see,<br />
+Now return and weep for me.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Pitying, I dropped a tear:<br />
+But I saw a glow-worm near,<br />
+Who replied, &lsquo;What wailing wight<br />
+Calls the watchman of the night?&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;I am set to light the ground,<br />
+While the beetle goes his round:<br />
+Follow now the beetle&rsquo;s hum;<br />
+Little wanderer, hie thee home!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img19.jpg">
+<img src="images/img19.jpg" width="375" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song20"></a>ON ANOTHER&rsquo;S SORROW</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Can I see another&rsquo;s woe,<br />
+And not be in sorrow too?<br />
+Can I see another&rsquo;s grief,<br />
+And not seek for kind relief?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Can I see a falling tear,<br />
+And not feel my sorrow&rsquo;s share?<br />
+Can a father see his child<br />
+Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Can a mother sit and hear<br />
+An infant groan, an infant fear?<br />
+No, no! never can it be!<br />
+Never, never can it be!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And can He who smiles on all<br />
+Hear the wren with sorrows small,<br />
+Hear the small bird&rsquo;s grief and care,<br />
+Hear the woes that infants bear&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And not sit beside the nest,<br />
+Pouring pity in their breast,<br />
+And not sit the cradle near,<br />
+Weeping tear on infant&rsquo;s tear?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And not sit both night and day,<br />
+Wiping all our tears away?<br />
+O no! never can it be!<br />
+Never, never can it be!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+He doth give His joy to all:<br />
+He becomes an infant small,<br />
+He becomes a man of woe,<br />
+He doth feel the sorrow too.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,<br />
+And thy Maker is not by:<br />
+Think not thou canst weep a tear,<br />
+And thy Maker is not near.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+O He gives to us His joy,<br />
+That our grief He may destroy:<br />
+Till our grief is fled and gone<br />
+He doth sit by us and moan.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img20.jpg">
+<img src="images/img20.jpg" width="399" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img20b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img20b.jpg" width="425" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song21"></a>SONGS OF EXPERIENCE</h2>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img21.jpg">
+<img src="images/img21.jpg" width="362" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song22"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    Hear the voice of the Bard,<br />
+Who present, past, and future, sees;<br />
+    Whose ears have heard<br />
+    The Holy Word<br />
+That walked among the ancient trees;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    Calling the lapséd soul,<br />
+And weeping in the evening dew;<br />
+    That might control<br />
+    The starry pole,<br />
+And fallen, fallen light renew!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    &lsquo;O Earth, O Earth, return!<br />
+Arise from out the dewy grass!<br />
+    Night is worn,<br />
+    And the morn<br />
+Rises from the slumbrous mass.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    &lsquo;Turn away no more;<br />
+Why wilt thou turn away?<br />
+    The starry floor,<br />
+    The watery shore,<br />
+Is given thee till the break of day.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img22.jpg">
+<img src="images/img22.jpg" width="335" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song23"></a>EARTH&rsquo;S ANSWER</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    Earth raised up her head<br />
+From the darkness dread and drear,<br />
+        Her light fled,<br />
+        Stony, dread,<br />
+And her locks covered with grey despair.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    &lsquo;Prisoned on watery shore,<br />
+Starry jealousy does keep my den<br />
+        Cold and hoar;<br />
+        Weeping o&rsquo;er,<br />
+I hear the father of the ancient men.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    &lsquo;Selfish father of men!<br />
+Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!<br />
+        Can delight,<br />
+        Chained in night,<br />
+The virgins of youth and morning bear.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    &lsquo;Does spring hide its joy,<br />
+When buds and blossoms grow?<br />
+        Does the sower<br />
+        Sow by night,<br />
+Or the ploughman in darkness plough?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+    &lsquo;Break this heavy chain,<br />
+That does freeze my bones around!<br />
+        Selfish, vain,<br />
+        Eternal bane,<br />
+That free love with bondage bound.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img23.jpg">
+<img src="images/img23.jpg" width="375" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song24"></a>THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Love seeketh not itself to please,<br />
+    Nor for itself hath any care,<br />
+But for another gives its ease,<br />
+    And builds a heaven in hell&rsquo;s
+despair.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+So sung a little clod of clay,<br />
+    Trodden with the cattle&rsquo;s feet,<br />
+But a pebble of the brook<br />
+    Warbled out these metres meet:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Love seeketh only Self to please,<br />
+    To bind another to its delight,<br />
+Joys in another&rsquo;s loss of ease,<br />
+    And builds a hell in heaven&rsquo;s
+despite.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img24.jpg">
+<img src="images/img24.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song25"></a>HOLY THURSDAY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Is this a holy thing to see<br />
+    In a rich and fruitful land,&mdash;<br />
+Babes reduced to misery,<br />
+    Fed with cold and usurous hand?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Is that trembling cry a song?<br />
+    Can it be a song of joy?<br />
+And so many children poor?<br />
+    It is a land of poverty!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And their sun does never shine,<br />
+    And their fields are bleak and bare,<br />
+And their ways are filled with thorns,<br />
+    It is eternal winter there.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+For where&rsquo;er the sun does shine,<br />
+    And where&rsquo;er the rain does fall,<br />
+Babe can never hunger there,<br />
+    Nor poverty the mind appal.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img25.jpg">
+<img src="images/img25.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song26"></a>THE LITTLE GIRL LOST</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+In futurity<br />
+I prophesy<br />
+That the earth from sleep<br />
+(Grave the sentence deep)
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Shall arise, and seek<br />
+For her Maker meek;<br />
+And the desert wild<br />
+Become a garden mild.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+In the southern clime,<br />
+Where the summer&rsquo;s prime<br />
+Never fades away,<br />
+Lovely Lyca lay.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Seven summers old<br />
+Lovely Lyca told.<br />
+She had wandered long,<br />
+Hearing wild birds&rsquo; song.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Sweet sleep, come to me,<br />
+Underneath this tree;<br />
+Do father, mother, weep?<br />
+Where can Lyca sleep?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Lost in desert wild<br />
+Is your little child.<br />
+How can Lyca sleep<br />
+If her mother weep?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;If her heart does ache,<br />
+Then let Lyca wake;<br />
+If my mother sleep,<br />
+Lyca shall not weep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Frowning, frowning night,<br />
+O&rsquo;er this desert bright<br />
+Let thy moon arise,<br />
+While I close my eyes.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sleeping Lyca lay,<br />
+While the beasts of prey,<br />
+Come from caverns deep,<br />
+Viewed the maid asleep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The kingly lion stood,<br />
+And the virgin viewed:<br />
+Then he gambolled round<br />
+O&rsquo;er the hallowed ground.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Leopards, tigers, play<br />
+Round her as she lay;<br />
+While the lion old<br />
+Bowed his mane of gold,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And her bosom lick,<br />
+And upon her neck,<br />
+From his eyes of flame,<br />
+Ruby tears there came;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+While the lioness<br />
+Loosed her slender dress,<br />
+And naked they conveyed<br />
+To caves the sleeping maid.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img26a.jpg">
+<img src="images/img26a.jpg" width="394" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img26b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img26b.jpg" width="404" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song27"></a>THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+All the night in woe<br />
+Lyca&rsquo;s parents go<br />
+Over valleys deep,<br />
+While the deserts weep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Tired and woe-begone,<br />
+Hoarse with making moan,<br />
+Arm in arm, seven days<br />
+They traced the desert ways.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Seven nights they sleep<br />
+Among shadows deep,<br />
+And dream they see their child<br />
+Starved in desert wild.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Pale through pathless ways<br />
+The fancied image strays,<br />
+Famished, weeping, weak,<br />
+With hollow piteous shriek.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Rising from unrest,<br />
+The trembling woman pressed<br />
+With feet of weary woe;<br />
+She could no further go.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+In his arms he bore<br />
+Her, armed with sorrow sore;<br />
+Till before their way<br />
+A couching lion lay.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Turning back was vain:<br />
+Soon his heavy mane<br />
+Bore them to the ground,<br />
+Then he stalked around,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Smelling to his prey;<br />
+But their fears allay<br />
+When he licks their hands,<br />
+And silent by them stands.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+They look upon his eyes,<br />
+Filled with deep surprise;<br />
+And wondering behold<br />
+A spirit armed in gold.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+On his head a crown,<br />
+On his shoulders down<br />
+Flowed his golden hair.<br />
+Gone was all their care.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Follow me,&rsquo; he said;<br />
+&lsquo;Weep not for the maid;<br />
+In my palace deep,<br />
+Lyca lies asleep.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then they followèd<br />
+Where the vision led,<br />
+And saw their sleeping child<br />
+Among tigers wild.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+To this day they dwell<br />
+In a lonely dell,<br />
+Nor fear the wolvish howl<br />
+Nor the lion&rsquo;s growl.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img26b.jpg">
+<img src="images/img26b.jpg" width="404" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img27.jpg">
+<img src="images/img27.jpg" width="371" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song28"></a>THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A little black thing among the snow,<br />
+    Crying! &lsquo;weep! weep!&rsquo; in notes of woe!<br />
+&lsquo;Where are thy father and mother? Say!&rsquo;&mdash;<br />
+    &lsquo;They are both gone up to the church to pray.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Because I was happy upon the heath,<br />
+    And smiled among the winter&rsquo;s snow,<br />
+They clothed me in the clothes of death,<br />
+    And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;And because I am happy and dance and sing,<br />
+    They think they have done me no injury,<br />
+And are gone to praise God and His priest and king,<br />
+    Who made up a heaven of our misery.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img28.jpg">
+<img src="images/img28.jpg" width="376" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song29"></a>NURSE&rsquo;S SONG</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When the voices of children are heard on the green,<br />
+    And whisperings are in the dale,<br />
+The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,<br />
+    My face turns green and pale.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,<br />
+    And the dews of night arise;<br />
+Your spring and your day are wasted in play,<br />
+    And your winter and night in disguise.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img29.jpg">
+<img src="images/img29.jpg" width="426" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song30"></a>THE SICK ROSE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+O rose, thou art sick!<br />
+    The invisible worm,<br />
+That flies in the night,<br />
+    In the howling storm,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Has found out thy bed<br />
+    Of crimson joy,<br />
+And his dark secret love<br />
+    Does thy life destroy.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img30.jpg">
+<img src="images/img30.jpg" width="387" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song31"></a>THE FLY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Little Fly,<br />
+    Thy summer&rsquo;s play<br />
+My thoughtless hand<br />
+    Has brushed away.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Am not I<br />
+    A fly like thee?<br />
+Or art not thou<br />
+    A man like me?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+For I dance,<br />
+    And drink, and sing,<br />
+Till some blind hand<br />
+    Shall brush my wing.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+If thought is life<br />
+    And strength and breath,<br />
+And the want<br />
+    Of thought is death;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then am I<br />
+    A happy fly.<br />
+If I live,<br />
+    Or if I die.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img31.jpg">
+<img src="images/img31.jpg" width="389" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song32"></a>THE ANGEL</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?<br />
+And that I was a maiden Queen<br />
+Guarded by an Angel mild:<br />
+Witless woe was ne&rsquo;er beguiled!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And I wept both night and day,<br />
+And he wiped my tears away;<br />
+And I wept both day and night,<br />
+And hid from him my heart&rsquo;s delight.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+So he took his wings, and fled;<br />
+Then the morn blushed rosy red.<br />
+I dried my tears, and armed my fears<br />
+With ten thousand shields and spears.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Soon my Angel came again;<br />
+I was armed, he came in vain;<br />
+For the time of youth was fled,<br />
+And grey hairs were on my head.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img32.jpg">
+<img src="images/img32.jpg" width="406" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song33"></a>THE TIGER</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright<br />
+In the forests of the night,<br />
+What immortal hand or eye<br />
+Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+In what distant deeps or skies<br />
+Burnt the fire of thine eyes?<br />
+On what wings dare he aspire?<br />
+What the hand dare seize the fire?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And what shoulder and what art<br />
+Could twist the sinews of thy heart?<br />
+And, when thy heart began to beat,<br />
+What dread hand and what dread feet?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+What the hammer? what the chain?<br />
+In what furnace was thy brain?<br />
+What the anvil? what dread grasp<br />
+Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+When the stars threw down their spears,<br />
+And watered heaven with their tears,<br />
+Did He smile His work to see?<br />
+Did He who made the lamb make thee?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright<br />
+In the forests of the night,<br />
+What immortal hand or eye<br />
+Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img33.jpg">
+<img src="images/img33.jpg" width="371" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song34"></a>MY PRETTY ROSE TREE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A flower was offered to me,<br />
+    Such a flower as May never bore;<br />
+But I said, &lsquo;I&rsquo;ve a pretty rose tree,&rsquo;<br />
+    And I passed the sweet flower o&rsquo;er.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then I went to my pretty rose tree,<br />
+    To tend her by day and by night;<br />
+But my rose turned away with jealousy,<br />
+    And her thorns were my only delight.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song35"></a>AH, SUNFLOWER</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Ah, sunflower, weary of time,<br />
+    Who countest the steps of the sun;<br />
+Seeking after that sweet golden clime<br />
+    Where the traveller&rsquo;s journey is done;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Where the Youth pined away with desire,<br />
+    And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,<br />
+Arise from their graves, and aspire<br />
+    Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img35.jpg">
+<img src="images/img35.jpg" width="393" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song36"></a>THE LILY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,<br />
+The humble sheep a threat&rsquo;ning horn:<br />
+While the Lily white shall in love delight,<br />
+Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song37"></a>THE GARDEN OF LOVE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+I went to the Garden of Love,<br />
+    And saw what I never had seen;<br />
+A Chapel was built in the midst,<br />
+    Where I used to play on the green.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And the gates of this Chapel were shut,<br />
+    And &lsquo;Thou shalt not&rsquo; writ over the door;<br />
+So I turned to the Garden of Love<br />
+    That so many sweet flowers bore.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And I saw it was filled with graves,<br />
+    And tombstones where flowers should be;<br />
+And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,<br />
+    And binding with briars my joys and desires.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img37.jpg">
+<img src="images/img37.jpg" width="386" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song38"></a>THE LITTLE VAGABOND</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;<br />
+But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.<br />
+Besides, I can tell where I am used well;<br />
+Such usage in heaven will never do well.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,<br />
+And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,<br />
+We&rsquo;d sing and we&rsquo;d pray all the livelong day,<br />
+Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,<br />
+And we&rsquo;d be as happy as birds in the spring;<br />
+And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,<br />
+Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And God, like a father, rejoicing to see<br />
+His children as pleasant and happy as He,<br />
+Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,<br />
+But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img38.jpg">
+<img src="images/img38.jpg" width="384" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song39"></a>LONDON</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+I wander through each chartered street,<br />
+    Near where the chartered Thames does flow,<br />
+A mark in every face I meet,<br />
+    Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+In every cry of every man,<br />
+    In every infant&rsquo;s cry of fear,<br />
+In every voice, in every ban,<br />
+    The mind-forged manacles I hear:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+How the chimney-sweeper&rsquo;s cry<br />
+    Every blackening church appals,<br />
+And the hapless soldier&rsquo;s sigh<br />
+    Runs in blood down palace-walls.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+But most, through midnight streets I hear<br />
+    How the youthful harlot&rsquo;s curse<br />
+Blasts the new-born infant&rsquo;s tear,<br />
+    And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img39.jpg">
+<img src="images/img39.jpg" width="379" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song40"></a>THE HUMAN ABSTRACT</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Pity would be no more<br />
+If we did not make somebody poor,<br />
+And Mercy no more could be<br />
+If all were as happy as we.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And mutual fear brings Peace,<br />
+Till the selfish loves increase;<br />
+Then Cruelty knits a snare,<br />
+And spreads his baits with care.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+He sits down with holy fears,<br />
+And waters the ground with tears;<br />
+Then Humility takes its root<br />
+Underneath his foot.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Soon spreads the dismal shade<br />
+Of Mystery over his head,<br />
+And the caterpillar and fly<br />
+Feed on the Mystery.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And it bears the fruit of Deceit,<br />
+Ruddy and sweet to eat,<br />
+And the raven his nest has made<br />
+In its thickest shade.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The gods of the earth and sea<br />
+Sought through nature to find this tree,<br />
+But their search was all in vain:<br />
+There grows one in the human Brain.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img40.jpg">
+<img src="images/img40.jpg" width="359" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song41"></a>INFANT SORROW</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+My mother groaned, my father wept:<br />
+Into the dangerous world I leapt,<br />
+Helpless, naked, piping loud,<br />
+Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Struggling in my father&rsquo;s hands,<br />
+Striving against my swaddling bands,<br />
+Bound and weary, I thought best<br />
+To sulk upon my mother&rsquo;s breast.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img41.jpg">
+<img src="images/img41.jpg" width="411" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song42"></a>A POISON TREE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+I was angry with my friend:<br />
+I told my wrath, my wrath did end.<br />
+I was angry with my foe:<br />
+I told it not, my wrath did grow.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And I watered it in fears<br />
+Night and morning with my tears,<br />
+And I sunnèd it with smiles<br />
+And with soft deceitful wiles.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And it grew both day and night,<br />
+Till it bore an apple bright,<br />
+And my foe beheld it shine,<br />
+And he knew that it was mine,&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And into my garden stole<br />
+When the night had veiled the pole;<br />
+In the morning, glad, I see<br />
+My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img42.jpg">
+<img src="images/img42.jpg" width="386" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song43"></a>A LITTLE BOY LOST</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;Nought loves another as itself,<br />
+    Nor venerates another so,<br />
+Nor is it possible to thought<br />
+    A greater than itself to know.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&lsquo;And, father, how can I love you<br />
+    Or any of my brothers more?<br />
+I love you like the little bird<br />
+    That picks up crumbs around the door.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The Priest sat by and heard the child;<br />
+    In trembling zeal he seized his hair,<br />
+He led him by his little coat,<br />
+    And all admired his priestly care.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And standing on the altar high,<br />
+    &lsquo;Lo, what a fiend is here!&rsquo; said he:<br />
+&lsquo;One who sets reason up for judge<br />
+    Of our most holy mystery.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The weeping child could not be heard,<br />
+    The weeping parents wept in vain:<br />
+They stripped him to his little shirt,<br />
+    And bound him in an iron chain,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+And burned him in a holy place<br />
+    Where many had been burned before;<br />
+The weeping parents wept in vain.<br />
+    Are such things done on Albion&rsquo;s shore?
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img43.jpg">
+<img src="images/img43.jpg" width="389" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song44"></a>A LITTLE GIRL LOST</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Children of the future age,<br />
+Reading this indignant page,<br />
+Know that in a former time<br />
+Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+In the age of gold,<br />
+Free from winter&rsquo;s cold,<br />
+Youth and maiden bright,<br />
+To the holy light,<br />
+Naked in the sunny beams delight.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Once a youthful pair,<br />
+Filled with softest care,<br />
+Met in garden bright<br />
+Where the holy light<br />
+Had just removed the curtains of the night.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+There, in rising day,<br />
+On the grass they play;<br />
+Parents were afar,<br />
+Strangers came not near,<br />
+And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Tired with kisses sweet,<br />
+They agree to meet<br />
+When the silent sleep<br />
+Waves o&rsquo;er heaven&rsquo;s deep,<br />
+And the weary tired wanderers weep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+To her father white<br />
+Came the maiden bright;<br />
+But his loving look,<br />
+Like the holy book,<br />
+All her tender limbs with terror shook.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Ona, pale and weak,<br />
+To thy father speak!<br />
+O the trembling fear!<br />
+O the dismal care<br />
+That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img44.jpg">
+<img src="images/img44.jpg" width="388" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song45"></a>A DIVINE IMAGE</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Cruelty has a human heart,<br />
+    And Jealousy a human face;<br />
+Terror the human form divine,<br />
+    And Secrecy the human dress.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The human dress is forgèd iron,<br />
+    The human form a fiery forge,<br />
+The human face a furnace sealed,<br />
+    The human heart its hungry gorge.
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img45.jpg">
+<img src="images/img45.jpg" width="388" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song46"></a>A CRADLE SONG</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,<br />
+Dreaming in the joys of night;<br />
+Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep<br />
+Little sorrows sit and weep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Sweet babe, in thy face<br />
+Soft desires I can trace,<br />
+Secret joys and secret smiles,<br />
+Little pretty infant wiles.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+As thy softest limbs I feel,<br />
+Smiles as of the morning steal<br />
+O&rsquo;er thy cheek, and o&rsquo;er thy breast<br />
+Where thy little heart doth rest.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+O the cunning wiles that creep<br />
+In thy little heart asleep!<br />
+When thy little heart doth wake,<br />
+Then the dreadful light shall break.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song47"></a>TO TIRZAH</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Whate&rsquo;er is born of mortal birth<br />
+Must be consumèd with the earth,<br />
+To rise from generation free:<br />
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+The sexes sprung from shame and pride,<br />
+Blowed in the morn, in evening died;<br />
+But mercy changed death into sleep;<br />
+The sexes rose to work and weep.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Thou, mother of my mortal part,<br />
+With cruelty didst mould my heart,<br />
+And with false self-deceiving tears<br />
+Didst blind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,<br />
+And me to mortal life betray.<br />
+The death of Jesus set me free:<br />
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img47.jpg">
+<img src="images/img47.jpg" width="393" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song48"></a>THE SCHOOLBOY</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+I love to rise in a summer morn,<br />
+    When the birds sing on every tree;<br />
+The distant huntsman winds his horn,<br />
+    And the skylark sings with me:<br />
+    O what sweet company!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+But to go to school in a summer morn,&mdash;<br />
+    O it drives all joy away!<br />
+Under a cruel eye outworn,<br />
+    The little ones spend the day<br />
+    In sighing and dismay.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Ah then at times I drooping sit,<br />
+    And spend many an anxious hour;<br />
+Nor in my book can I take delight,<br />
+    Nor sit in learning&rsquo;s bower,<br />
+    Worn through with the dreary shower.
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+How can the bird that is born for joy<br />
+    Sit in a cage and sing?<br />
+How can a child, when fears annoy,<br />
+    But droop his tender wing,<br />
+    And forget his youthful spring!
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+O father and mother if buds are nipped,<br />
+    And blossoms blown away;<br />
+And if the tender plants are stripped<br />
+    Of their joy in the springing day,<br />
+    By sorrow and care&rsquo;s dismay,&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+How shall the summer arise in joy,<br />
+    Or the summer fruits appear?<br />
+Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,<br />
+    Or bless the mellowing year,<br />
+    When the blasts of winter appear?
+</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img48.jpg">
+<img src="images/img48.jpg" width="416" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="song49"></a>THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD</h2>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Youth of delight! come hither<br />
+And see the opening morn,<br />
+Image of Truth new-born.<br />
+Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,<br />
+Dark disputes and artful teazing.<br />
+Folly is an endless maze;<br />
+Tangled roots perplex her ways;<br />
+How many have fallen there!<br />
+They stumble all night over bones of the dead;<br />
+And feel&mdash;they know not what but care;<br />
+And wish to lead others, when they should be led.</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/img49.jpg">
+<img src="images/img49.jpg" width="352" height="600" alt="Illustration:" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+
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diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
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@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #1934 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1934)
diff --git a/old/1934.txt b/old/1934.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience,
+by William Blake
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience
+
+
+Author: William Blake
+
+
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2008  [eBook #1934]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND SONGS OF
+EXPERIENCE***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1901 R. Brimley Johnson edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+          [Picture: Image of Blake's original page of The Tyger]
+
+
+
+
+
+                            SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+                                   AND
+                           SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+
+                             BY WILLIAM BLAKE
+
+                 [Picture: The Astolaf Press, Guildford]
+
+                       LONDON: R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON.
+                         GUILDFORD: A. C. CURTIS.
+
+                                 MDCCCCI.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+             SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+
+                                         Page
+Introduction                                1
+The Shepherd                                3
+The Echoing Green                           4
+The Lamb                                    6
+The Little Black Boy                        7
+The Blossom                                 9
+The Chimney-Sweeper                        10
+The Little Boy Lost                        12
+The Little Boy Pound                       13
+Laughing Song                              14
+A Cradle Song                              15
+The Divine Image                           17
+Holy Thursday                              19
+Night                                      20
+Spring                                     23
+Nurse's Song                               25
+Infant Joy                                 26
+A Dream                                    27
+On Another's Sorrow                        29
+
+             SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+Introduction                               33
+Earth's Answer                             35
+The Clod and the Pebble                    37
+Holy Thursday                              38
+The Little Girl Lost                       39
+The Little Girl Found                      42
+The Chimney-Sweeper                        45
+Nurse's Song                               46
+The Sick Rose                              47
+The Fly                                    48
+The Angel                                  50
+The Tiger                                  51
+My Pretty Rose-Tree                        53
+Ah, Sunflower                              54
+The Lily                                   55
+The Garden of Love                         56
+The Little Vagabond                        57
+London                                     58
+The Human Abstract                         59
+Infant Sorrow                              61
+A Poison Tree                              62
+A Little Boy Lost                          63
+A Little Girl Lost                         65
+A Divine Image                             67
+A Cradle Song                              68
+The Schoolboy                              69
+To Tirzah                                  71
+The Voice of the Ancient Bard              72
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+Piping down the valleys wild,
+   Piping songs of pleasant glee,
+On a cloud I saw a child,
+   And he laughing said to me:
+
+'Pipe a song about a Lamb!'
+   So I piped with merry cheer.
+'Piper, pipe that song again.'
+   So I piped: he wept to hear.
+
+'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
+   Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
+So I sung the same again,
+   While he wept with joy to hear.
+
+'Piper, sit thee down and write
+   In a book, that all may read.'
+So he vanished from my sight;
+   And I plucked a hollow reed,
+
+And I made a rural pen,
+   And I stained the water clear,
+And I wrote my happy songs
+   Every child may joy to hear.
+
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD
+
+
+How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot!
+From the morn to the evening he strays;
+He shall follow his sheep all the day,
+And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
+
+For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
+And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
+He is watchful while they are in peace,
+For they know when their shepherd is nigh.
+
+
+
+THE ECHOING GREEN
+
+
+The sun does arise,
+And make happy the skies;
+The merry bells ring
+To welcome the Spring;
+The skylark and thrush,
+The birds of the bush,
+Sing louder around
+To the bells' cheerful sound;
+While our sports shall be seen
+On the echoing green.
+
+Old John, with white hair,
+Does laugh away care,
+Sitting under the oak,
+Among the old folk.
+They laugh at our play,
+And soon they all say,
+'Such, such were the joys
+When we all--girls and boys--
+In our youth-time were seen
+On the echoing green.'
+
+Till the little ones, weary,
+No more can be merry:
+The sun does descend,
+And our sports have an end.
+Round the laps of their mothers
+Many sisters and brothers,
+Like birds in their nest,
+Are ready for rest,
+And sport no more seen
+On the darkening green.
+
+
+
+THE LAMB
+
+
+   Little lamb, who made thee?
+   Does thou know who made thee,
+Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
+By the stream and o'er the mead;
+Gave thee clothing of delight,
+Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
+Gave thee such a tender voice,
+Making all the vales rejoice?
+   Little lamb, who made thee?
+   Does thou know who made thee?
+
+   Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
+   Little lamb, I'll tell thee:
+He is called by thy name,
+For He calls Himself a Lamb.
+He is meek, and He is mild,
+He became a little child.
+I a child, and thou a lamb,
+We are called by His name.
+   Little lamb, God bless thee!
+   Little lamb, God bless thee!
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
+
+
+My mother bore me in the southern wild,
+   And I am black, but O 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, pointing 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
+   Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
+
+'For, when our souls have learned 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.
+
+
+
+THE BLOSSOM
+
+
+Merry, merry sparrow!
+Under leaves so green
+A happy blossom
+Sees you, swift as arrow,
+Seek your cradle narrow,
+Near my bosom.
+Pretty, pretty robin!
+Under leaves so green
+A happy blossom
+Hears you sobbing, sobbing,
+Pretty, pretty robin,
+Near my bosom.
+
+
+
+THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
+
+
+When my mother died I was very young,
+And my father sold me while yet my tongue
+Could scarcely cry 'Weep! weep! weep! weep!'
+So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
+
+There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
+That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved; so I said,
+'Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head's bare,
+You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.'
+
+And so he was quiet, and that very night,
+As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!--
+That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
+Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
+
+And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
+And he opened the coffins, and set them all free;
+Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run
+And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
+
+Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
+They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind:
+And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
+He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
+
+And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
+And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
+Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:
+So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BOY LOST
+
+
+'Father, father, where are you going?
+   O do not walk so fast!
+   Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
+Or else I shall be lost.'
+
+The night was dark, no father was there,
+   The child was wet with dew;
+The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
+   And away the vapour flew.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
+
+
+The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
+   Led by the wandering light,
+   Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
+Appeared like his father, in white.
+
+He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
+   And to his mother brought,
+Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
+   Her little boy weeping sought.
+
+
+
+LAUGHING SONG
+
+
+When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
+And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
+When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
+And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
+
+When the meadows laugh with lively green,
+And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
+When Mary and Susan and Emily
+With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!'
+
+When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
+Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
+Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
+To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha ha he!'
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+Sweet dreams, form a shade
+O'er my lovely infant's head!
+Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
+By happy, silent, moony beams!
+
+Sweet Sleep, with soft down
+Weave thy brows an infant crown!
+Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
+Hover o'er my happy child!
+
+Sweet smiles, in the night
+Hover over my delight!
+Sweet smiles, mother's smiles,
+All the livelong night beguiles.
+
+Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
+Chase not slumber from thy eyes!
+Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
+All the dovelike moans beguiles.
+
+Sleep, sleep, happy child!
+All creation slept and smiled.
+Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
+While o'er thee thy mother weep.
+
+Sweet babe, in thy face
+Holy image I can trace;
+Sweet babe, once like thee
+Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
+
+Wept for me, for thee, for all,
+When He was an infant small.
+Thou His image ever see,
+Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
+
+Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
+Who became an infant small;
+Infant smiles are His own smiles;
+Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
+
+
+
+THE DIVINE IMAGE
+
+
+To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+   All pray in their distress,
+   And to these virtues of delight
+Return their thankfulness.
+
+For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+   Is God our Father dear;
+And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+   Is man, His child and care.
+
+For Mercy has a human heart;
+   Pity, a human face;
+And Love, the human form divine:
+   And Peace the human dress.
+
+Then every man, of every clime,
+   That prays in his distress,
+Prays to the human form divine:
+   Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
+
+And all must love the human form,
+   In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
+Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
+   There God is dwelling too.
+
+
+
+HOLY THURSDAY
+
+
+'Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
+The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green:
+Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
+Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.
+
+O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
+Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.
+The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
+Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
+
+Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
+Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
+Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.
+Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
+
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+
+The sun descending in the West,
+The evening star does shine;
+The birds are silent in their nest,
+And I must seek for mine.
+   The moon, like a flower
+   In heaven's high bower,
+   With silent delight,
+   Sits and smiles on the night.
+
+Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
+Where flocks have took delight,
+Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
+The feet of angels bright;
+   Unseen, they pour blessing,
+   And joy without ceasing,
+   On each bud and blossom,
+   And each sleeping bosom.
+
+They look in every thoughtless nest
+Where birds are covered warm;
+They visit caves of every beast,
+To keep them all from harm:
+   If they see any weeping
+   That should have been sleeping,
+   They pour sleep on their head,
+   And sit down by their bed.
+
+When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
+They pitying stand and weep;
+Seeking to drive their thirst away,
+And keep them from the sheep.
+   But, if they rush dreadful,
+   The angels, most heedful,
+   Receive each mild spirit,
+   New worlds to inherit.
+
+And there the lion's ruddy eyes
+Shall flow with tears of gold:
+And pitying the tender cries,
+And walking round the fold:
+   Saying: 'Wrath by His meekness,
+   And, by His health, sickness,
+   Is driven away
+   From our immortal day.
+
+'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
+I can lie down and sleep,
+Or think on Him who bore thy name,
+Graze after thee, and weep.
+   For, washed in life's river,
+   My bright mane for ever
+   Shall shine like the gold,
+   As I guard o'er the fold.'
+
+
+
+SPRING
+
+
+      Sound the flute!
+      Now it's mute!
+      Birds delight,
+      Day and night,
+      Nightingale,
+      In the dale,
+      Lark in sky,--
+      Merrily,
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+
+      Little boy,
+      Full of joy;
+      Little girl,
+      Sweet and small;
+      Cock does crow,
+      So do you;
+      Merry voice,
+      Infant noise;
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+
+      Little lamb,
+      Here I am;
+      Come and lick
+      My white neck;
+      Let me pull
+      Your soft wool;
+      Let me kiss
+      Your soft face;
+Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.
+
+
+
+NURSE'S SONG
+
+
+When voices of children are heard on the green,
+   And laughing is heard on the hill,
+My heart is at rest within my breast,
+   And everything else is still.
+'Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
+   And the dews of night arise;
+Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,
+   Till the morning appears in the skies.'
+
+'No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
+   And we cannot go to sleep;
+Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
+   And the hills are all covered with sheep.'
+'Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
+   And then go home to bed.'
+The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
+   And all the hills echoed.
+
+
+
+INFANT JOY
+
+
+'I have no name;
+I am but two days old.'
+What shall I call thee?
+'I happy am,
+Joy is my name.'
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+
+Pretty joy!
+Sweet joy, but two days old.
+Sweet joy I call thee:
+Thou dost smile,
+I sing the while;
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+
+
+
+A DREAM
+
+
+Once a dream did weave a shade
+O'er my angel-guarded bed,
+That an emmet lost its way
+Where on grass methought I lay.
+
+Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
+Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
+Over many a tangled spray,
+All heart-broke, I heard her say:
+
+'O my children! do they cry,
+Do they hear their father sigh?
+Now they look abroad to see,
+Now return and weep for me.'
+
+Pitying, I dropped a tear:
+But I saw a glow-worm near,
+Who replied, 'What wailing wight
+Calls the watchman of the night?'
+
+'I am set to light the ground,
+While the beetle goes his round:
+Follow now the beetle's hum;
+Little wanderer, hie thee home!'
+
+
+
+ON ANOTHER'S SORROW
+
+
+Can I see another's woe,
+And not be in sorrow too?
+Can I see another's grief,
+And not seek for kind relief?
+
+Can I see a falling tear,
+And not feel my sorrow's share?
+Can a father see his child
+Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
+
+Can a mother sit and hear
+An infant groan, an infant fear?
+No, no! never can it be!
+Never, never can it be!
+
+And can He who smiles on all
+Hear the wren with sorrows small,
+Hear the small bird's grief and care,
+Hear the woes that infants bear--
+
+And not sit beside the nest,
+Pouring pity in their breast,
+And not sit the cradle near,
+Weeping tear on infant's tear?
+
+And not sit both night and day,
+Wiping all our tears away?
+O no! never can it be!
+Never, never can it be!
+
+He doth give His joy to all:
+He becomes an infant small,
+He becomes a man of woe,
+He doth feel the sorrow too.
+
+Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
+And thy Maker is not by:
+Think not thou canst weep a tear,
+And thy Maker is not near.
+
+O He gives to us His joy,
+That our grief He may destroy:
+Till our grief is fled and gone
+He doth sit by us and moan.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+Hear the voice of the Bard,
+Who present, past, and future, sees;
+Whose ears have heard
+The Holy Word
+That walked among the ancient trees;
+
+Calling the lapsed soul,
+And weeping in the evening dew;
+That might control
+The starry pole,
+And fallen, fallen light renew!
+
+'O Earth, O Earth, return!
+Arise from out the dewy grass!
+Night is worn,
+And the morn
+Rises from the slumbrous mass.
+
+'Turn away no more;
+Why wilt thou turn away?
+The starry floor,
+The watery shore,
+Is given thee till the break of day.'
+
+
+
+EARTH'S ANSWER
+
+
+Earth raised up her head
+From the darkness dread and drear,
+Her light fled,
+Stony, dread,
+And her locks covered with grey despair.
+
+'Prisoned on watery shore,
+Starry jealousy does keep my den
+Cold and hoar;
+Weeping o'er,
+I hear the father of the ancient men.
+
+'Selfish father of men!
+Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
+Can delight,
+Chained in night,
+The virgins of youth and morning bear.
+
+'Does spring hide its joy,
+When buds and blossoms grow?
+Does the sower
+Sow by night,
+Or the ploughman in darkness plough?
+
+'Break this heavy chain,
+That does freeze my bones around!
+Selfish, vain,
+Eternal bane,
+That free love with bondage bound.'
+
+
+
+THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE
+
+
+'Love seeketh not itself to please,
+   Nor for itself hath any care,
+But for another gives its ease,
+   And builds a heaven in hell's despair.'
+
+So sung a little clod of clay,
+   Trodden with the cattle's feet,
+But a pebble of the brook
+   Warbled out these metres meet:
+
+'Love seeketh only Self to please,
+   To bind another to its delight,
+Joys in another's loss of ease,
+   And builds a hell in heaven's despite.'
+
+
+
+HOLY THURSDAY
+
+
+Is this a holy thing to see
+   In a rich and fruitful land,--
+Babes reduced to misery,
+   Fed with cold and usurous hand?
+
+Is that trembling cry a song?
+   Can it be a song of joy?
+And so many children poor?
+   It is a land of poverty!
+
+And their sun does never shine,
+   And their fields are bleak and bare,
+And their ways are filled with thorns,
+   It is eternal winter there.
+
+For where'er the sun does shine,
+   And where'er the rain does fall,
+Babe can never hunger there,
+   Nor poverty the mind appal.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL LOST
+
+
+In futurity
+I prophesy
+That the earth from sleep
+(Grave the sentence deep)
+
+Shall arise, and seek
+For her Maker meek;
+And the desert wild
+Become a garden mild.
+
+In the southern clime,
+Where the summer's prime
+Never fades away,
+Lovely Lyca lay.
+
+Seven summers old
+Lovely Lyca told.
+She had wandered long,
+Hearing wild birds' song.
+
+'Sweet sleep, come to me,
+Underneath this tree;
+Do father, mother, weep?
+Where can Lyca sleep?
+
+'Lost in desert wild
+Is your little child.
+How can Lyca sleep
+If her mother weep?
+
+'If her heart does ache,
+Then let Lyca wake;
+If my mother sleep,
+Lyca shall not weep.
+
+'Frowning, frowning night,
+O'er this desert bright
+Let thy moon arise,
+While I close my eyes.'
+
+Sleeping Lyca lay,
+While the beasts of prey,
+Come from caverns deep,
+Viewed the maid asleep.
+
+The kingly lion stood,
+And the virgin viewed:
+Then he gambolled round
+O'er the hallowed ground.
+
+Leopards, tigers, play
+Round her as she lay;
+While the lion old
+Bowed his mane of gold,
+
+And her bosom lick,
+And upon her neck,
+From his eyes of flame,
+Ruby tears there came;
+
+While the lioness
+Loosed her slender dress,
+And naked they conveyed
+To caves the sleeping maid.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND
+
+
+All the night in woe
+Lyca's parents go
+Over valleys deep,
+While the deserts weep.
+
+Tired and woe-begone,
+Hoarse with making moan,
+Arm in arm, seven days
+They traced the desert ways.
+
+Seven nights they sleep
+Among shadows deep,
+And dream they see their child
+Starved in desert wild.
+
+Pale through pathless ways
+The fancied image strays,
+Famished, weeping, weak,
+With hollow piteous shriek.
+
+Rising from unrest,
+The trembling woman pressed
+With feet of weary woe;
+She could no further go.
+
+In his arms he bore
+Her, armed with sorrow sore;
+Till before their way
+A couching lion lay.
+
+Turning back was vain:
+Soon his heavy mane
+Bore them to the ground,
+Then he stalked around,
+
+Smelling to his prey;
+But their fears allay
+When he licks their hands,
+And silent by them stands.
+
+They look upon his eyes,
+Filled with deep surprise;
+And wondering behold
+A spirit armed in gold.
+
+On his head a crown,
+On his shoulders down
+Flowed his golden hair.
+Gone was all their care.
+
+'Follow me,' he said;
+'Weep not for the maid;
+In my palace deep,
+Lyca lies asleep.'
+
+Then they followed
+Where the vision led,
+And saw their sleeping child
+Among tigers wild.
+
+To this day they dwell
+In a lonely dell,
+Nor fear the wolvish howl
+Nor the lion's growl.
+
+
+
+THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
+
+
+A little black thing among the snow,
+Crying! 'weep! weep!' in notes of woe!
+'Where are thy father and mother?  Say!'--
+'They are both gone up to the church to pray.
+
+'Because I was happy upon the heath,
+And smiled among the winter's snow,
+They clothed me in the clothes of death,
+And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
+
+'And because I am happy and dance and sing,
+They think they have done me no injury,
+And are gone to praise God and His priest and king,
+Who made up a heaven of our misery.'
+
+
+
+NURSE'S SONG
+
+
+When the voices of children are heard on the green,
+   And whisperings are in the dale,
+The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
+   My face turns green and pale.
+
+Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
+   And the dews of night arise;
+Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
+   And your winter and night in disguise.
+
+
+
+THE SICK ROSE
+
+
+O rose, thou art sick!
+   The invisible worm,
+That flies in the night,
+   In the howling storm,
+
+Has found out thy bed
+   Of crimson joy,
+And his dark secret love
+   Does thy life destroy.
+
+
+
+THE FLY
+
+
+Little Fly,
+Thy summer's play
+My thoughtless hand
+Has brushed away.
+
+Am not I
+A fly like thee?
+Or art not thou
+A man like me?
+
+For I dance,
+And drink, and sing,
+Till some blind hand
+Shall brush my wing.
+
+If thought is life
+And strength and breath,
+And the want
+Of thought is death;
+
+Then am I
+A happy fly.
+If I live,
+Or if I die.
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL
+
+
+I dreamt a dream!  What can it mean?
+And that I was a maiden Queen
+Guarded by an Angel mild:
+Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!
+
+And I wept both night and day,
+And he wiped my tears away;
+And I wept both day and night,
+And hid from him my heart's delight.
+
+So he took his wings, and fled;
+Then the morn blushed rosy red.
+I dried my tears, and armed my fears
+With ten thousand shields and spears.
+
+Soon my Angel came again;
+I was armed, he came in vain;
+For the time of youth was fled,
+And grey hairs were on my head.
+
+
+
+THE TIGER
+
+
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright
+In the forests of the night,
+What immortal hand or eye
+Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
+
+In what distant deeps or skies
+Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
+On what wings dare he aspire?
+What the hand dare seize the fire?
+
+And what shoulder and what art
+Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
+And, when thy heart began to beat,
+What dread hand and what dread feet?
+
+What the hammer? what the chain?
+In what furnace was thy brain?
+What the anvil? what dread grasp
+Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
+
+When the stars threw down their spears,
+And watered heaven with their tears,
+Did He smile His work to see?
+Did He who made the lamb make thee?
+
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright
+In the forests of the night,
+What immortal hand or eye
+Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
+
+
+
+MY PRETTY ROSE TREE
+
+
+A flower was offered to me,
+   Such a flower as May never bore;
+But I said, 'I've a pretty rose tree,'
+   And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
+
+Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
+   To tend her by day and by night;
+But my rose turned away with jealousy,
+   And her thorns were my only delight.
+
+
+
+AH, SUNFLOWER
+
+
+Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
+   Who countest the steps of the sun;
+Seeking after that sweet golden clime
+   Where the traveller's journey is done;
+
+Where the Youth pined away with desire,
+   And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
+Arise from their graves, and aspire
+   Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
+
+
+
+THE LILY
+
+
+The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
+The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
+While the Lily white shall in love delight,
+Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
+
+
+
+THE GARDEN OF LOVE
+
+
+I went to the Garden of Love,
+   And saw what I never had seen;
+A Chapel was built in the midst,
+   Where I used to play on the green.
+
+And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
+   And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
+So I turned to the Garden of Love
+   That so many sweet flowers bore.
+
+And I saw it was filled with graves,
+   And tombstones where flowers should be;
+And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
+   And binding with briars my joys and desires.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE VAGABOND
+
+
+Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
+But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
+Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
+Such usage in heaven will never do well.
+
+But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
+And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
+We'd sing and we'd pray all the livelong day,
+Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
+
+Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
+And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring;
+And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
+Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
+
+And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
+His children as pleasant and happy as He,
+Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
+But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
+
+
+
+LONDON
+
+
+I wander through each chartered street,
+   Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
+A mark in every face I meet,
+   Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
+
+In every cry of every man,
+   In every infant's cry of fear,
+In every voice, in every ban,
+   The mind-forged manacles I hear:
+
+How the chimney-sweeper's cry
+   Every blackening church appals,
+And the hapless soldier's sigh
+   Runs in blood down palace-walls.
+
+But most, through midnight streets I hear
+   How the youthful harlot's curse
+Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
+   And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
+
+
+
+THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
+
+
+Pity would be no more
+If we did not make somebody poor,
+And Mercy no more could be
+If all were as happy as we.
+
+And mutual fear brings Peace,
+Till the selfish loves increase;
+Then Cruelty knits a snare,
+And spreads his baits with care.
+
+He sits down with holy fears,
+And waters the ground with tears;
+Then Humility takes its root
+Underneath his foot.
+
+Soon spreads the dismal shade
+Of Mystery over his head,
+And the caterpillar and fly
+Feed on the Mystery.
+
+And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
+Ruddy and sweet to eat,
+And the raven his nest has made
+In its thickest shade.
+
+The gods of the earth and sea
+Sought through nature to find this tree,
+But their search was all in vain:
+There grows one in the human Brain.
+
+
+
+INFANT SORROW
+
+
+My mother groaned, my father wept:
+Into the dangerous world I leapt,
+Helpless, naked, piping loud,
+Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
+
+Struggling in my father's hands,
+Striving against my swaddling bands,
+Bound and weary, I thought best
+To sulk upon my mother's breast.
+
+
+
+A POISON TREE
+
+
+I was angry with my friend:
+I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
+I was angry with my foe:
+I told it not, my wrath did grow.
+
+And I watered it in fears
+Night and morning with my tears,
+And I sunned it with smiles
+And with soft deceitful wiles.
+
+And it grew both day and night,
+Till it bore an apple bright,
+And my foe beheld it shine,
+And he knew that it was mine,--
+
+And into my garden stole
+When the night had veiled the pole;
+In the morning, glad, I see
+My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
+
+
+
+A LITTLE BOY LOST
+
+
+'Nought loves another as itself,
+   Nor venerates another so,
+Nor is it possible to thought
+   A greater than itself to know.
+
+'And, father, how can I love you
+   Or any of my brothers more?
+I love you like the little bird
+   That picks up crumbs around the door.'
+
+The Priest sat by and heard the child;
+   In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
+He led him by his little coat,
+   And all admired his priestly care.
+
+And standing on the altar high,
+   'Lo, what a fiend is here!' said he:
+'One who sets reason up for judge
+   Of our most holy mystery.'
+
+The weeping child could not be heard,
+   The weeping parents wept in vain:
+They stripped him to his little shirt,
+   And bound him in an iron chain,
+
+And burned him in a holy place
+   Where many had been burned before;
+The weeping parents wept in vain.
+   Are such things done on Albion's shore?
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL LOST
+
+
+Children of the future age,
+Reading this indignant page,
+Know that in a former time
+Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
+
+In the age of gold,
+Free from winter's cold,
+Youth and maiden bright,
+To the holy light,
+Naked in the sunny beams delight.
+
+Once a youthful pair,
+Filled with softest care,
+Met in garden bright
+Where the holy light
+Had just removed the curtains of the night.
+
+There, in rising day,
+On the grass they play;
+Parents were afar,
+Strangers came not near,
+And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
+
+Tired with kisses sweet,
+They agree to meet
+When the silent sleep
+Waves o'er heaven's deep,
+And the weary tired wanderers weep.
+
+To her father white
+Came the maiden bright;
+But his loving look,
+Like the holy book,
+All her tender limbs with terror shook.
+
+Ona, pale and weak,
+To thy father speak!
+O the trembling fear!
+O the dismal care
+That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!'
+
+
+
+A DIVINE IMAGE
+
+
+Cruelty has a human heart,
+   And Jealousy a human face;
+Terror the human form divine,
+   And Secrecy the human dress.
+
+The human dress is forged iron,
+   The human form a fiery forge,
+The human face a furnace sealed,
+   The human heart its hungry gorge.
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
+Dreaming in the joys of night;
+Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
+Little sorrows sit and weep.
+
+Sweet babe, in thy face
+Soft desires I can trace,
+Secret joys and secret smiles,
+Little pretty infant wiles.
+
+As thy softest limbs I feel,
+Smiles as of the morning steal
+O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
+Where thy little heart doth rest.
+
+O the cunning wiles that creep
+In thy little heart asleep!
+When thy little heart doth wake,
+Then the dreadful light shall break.
+
+
+
+THE SCHOOLBOY
+
+
+I love to rise in a summer morn,
+   When the birds sing on every tree;
+The distant huntsman winds his horn,
+   And the skylark sings with me:
+   O what sweet company!
+
+But to go to school in a summer morn,--
+   O it drives all joy away!
+Under a cruel eye outworn,
+   The little ones spend the day
+   In sighing and dismay.
+
+Ah then at times I drooping sit,
+   And spend many an anxious hour;
+Nor in my book can I take delight,
+   Nor sit in learning's bower,
+   Worn through with the dreary shower.
+
+How can the bird that is born for joy
+   Sit in a cage and sing?
+How can a child, when fears annoy,
+   But droop his tender wing,
+   And forget his youthful spring!
+
+O father and mother if buds are nipped,
+   And blossoms blown away;
+And if the tender plants are stripped
+   Of their joy in the springing day,
+   By sorrow and care's dismay,--
+
+How shall the summer arise in joy,
+   Or the summer fruits appear?
+Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
+   Or bless the mellowing year,
+   When the blasts of winter appear?
+
+
+
+TO TIRZAH
+
+
+Whate'er is born of mortal birth
+Must be consumed with the earth,
+To rise from generation free:
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+
+The sexes sprung from shame and pride,
+Blowed in the morn, in evening died;
+But mercy changed death into sleep;
+The sexes rose to work and weep.
+
+Thou, mother of my mortal part,
+With cruelty didst mould my heart,
+And with false self-deceiving tears
+Didst blind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,
+
+Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,
+And me to mortal life betray.
+The death of Jesus set me free:
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD
+
+
+Youth of delight! come hither
+And see the opening morn,
+Image of Truth new-born.
+Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
+Dark disputes and artful teazing.
+Folly is an endless maze;
+Tangled roots perplex her ways;
+How many have fallen there!
+They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
+And feel--they know not what but care;
+And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND SONGS OF
+EXPERIENCE***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 1934.txt or 1934.zip *******
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Songs of Innocence and Experience by Blake
+#2 in our series by William Blake
+
+
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+Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience
+
+by William Blake
+
+October, 1999  [Etext #1934]
+
+
+Project Gutenberg Etext Songs of Innocence and Experience by Blake
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+This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+from the 1901 R. Brimley Johnson edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience
+
+by William Blake
+
+
+
+
+Contents:
+
+SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+
+Introduction
+The Shepherd
+The Echoing Green
+The Lamb
+The Little Black Boy
+The Blossom
+The Chimney-Sweeper
+The Little Boy Lost
+The Little Boy Pound
+Laughing Song
+A Cradle Song
+The Divine Image
+Holy Thursday
+Night
+Spring
+Nurse's Song
+Infant Joy
+A Dream
+On Another's Sorrow
+
+SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+Introduction
+Earth's Answer
+The Clod and the Pebble
+Holy Thursday
+The Little Girl Lost
+The Little Girl Found
+The Chimney-Sweeper
+Nurse's Song
+The Sick Rose
+The Fly
+The Angel
+The Tiger
+My Pretty Rose-Tree
+Ah, Sunflower
+The Lily
+The Garden of Love
+The Little Vagabond
+London
+The Human Abstract
+Infant Sorrow
+A Poison Tree
+A Little Boy Lost
+A Little Girl Lost
+A Divine Image
+A Cradle Song
+The Schoolboy
+To Tirzah
+The Voice of the Ancient Bard
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF INNOCENCE
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+Piping down the valleys wild,
+Piping songs of pleasant glee,
+On a cloud I saw a child,
+And he laughing said to me:
+
+'Pipe a song about a Lamb!'
+So I piped with merry cheer.
+'Piper, pipe that song again.'
+So I piped:  he wept to hear.
+
+'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
+Sing thy songs of happy cheer!'
+So I sung the same again,
+While he wept with joy to hear.
+
+'Piper, sit thee down and write
+In a book, that all may read.'
+So he vanished from my sight;
+And I plucked a hollow reed,
+
+And I made a rural pen,
+And I stained the water clear,
+And I wrote my happy songs
+Every child may joy to hear.
+
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD
+
+
+
+How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot!
+From the morn to the evening he strays;
+He shall follow his sheep all the day,
+And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
+
+For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
+And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
+He is watchful while they are in peace,
+For they know when their shepherd is nigh.
+
+
+
+THE ECHOING GREEN
+
+
+
+The sun does arise,
+And make happy the skies;
+The merry bells ring
+To welcome the Spring;
+The skylark and thrush,
+The birds of the bush,
+Sing louder around
+To the bells' cheerful sound;
+While our sports shall be seen
+On the echoing green.
+
+Old John, with white hair,
+Does laugh away care,
+Sitting under the oak,
+Among the old folk.
+They laugh at our play,
+And soon they all say,
+'Such, such were the joys
+When we all--girls and boys -
+In our youth-time were seen
+On the echoing green.'
+
+Till the little ones, weary,
+No more can be merry:
+The sun does descend,
+And our sports have an end.
+Round the laps of their mothers
+Many sisters and brothers,
+Like birds in their nest,
+Are ready for rest,
+And sport no more seen
+On the darkening green.
+
+
+
+THE LAMB
+
+
+
+Little lamb, who made thee?
+Does thou know who made thee,
+Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
+By the stream and o'er the mead;
+Gave thee clothing of delight,
+Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
+Gave thee such a tender voice,
+Making all the vales rejoice?
+Little lamb, who made thee?
+Does thou know who made thee?
+
+Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
+Little lamb, I'll tell thee:
+He is called by thy name,
+For He calls Himself a Lamb.
+He is meek, and He is mild,
+He became a little child.
+I a child, and thou a lamb,
+We are called by His name.
+Little lamb, God bless thee!
+Little lamb, God bless thee!
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
+
+
+
+My mother bore me in the southern wild,
+And I am black, but O 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, pointing 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
+Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
+
+'For, when our souls have learned 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.
+
+
+
+THE BLOSSOM
+
+
+
+Merry, merry sparrow!
+Under leaves so green
+A happy blossom
+Sees you, swift as arrow,
+Seek your cradle narrow,
+Near my bosom.
+Pretty, pretty robin!
+Under leaves so green
+A happy blossom
+Hears you sobbing, sobbing,
+Pretty, pretty robin,
+Near my bosom.
+
+
+
+THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
+
+
+
+When my mother died I was very young,
+And my father sold me while yet my tongue
+Could scarcely cry 'Weep! weep! weep! weep!'
+So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
+
+There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
+That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved; so I said,
+'Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head's bare,
+You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.'
+
+And so he was quiet, and that very night,
+As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! -
+That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
+Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
+
+And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
+And he opened the coffins, and set them all free;
+Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run
+And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
+
+Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
+They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind:
+And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
+He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.
+
+And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
+And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
+Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:
+So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BOY LOST
+
+
+
+'Father, father, where are you going?
+O do not walk so fast!
+Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
+Or else I shall be lost.'
+
+The night was dark, no father was there,
+The child was wet with dew;
+The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
+And away the vapour flew.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
+
+
+
+The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
+Led by the wandering light,
+Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
+Appeared like his father, in white.
+
+He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
+And to his mother brought,
+Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
+Her little boy weeping sought.
+
+
+
+LAUGHING SONG
+
+
+
+When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
+And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
+When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
+And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
+
+When the meadows laugh with lively green,
+And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
+When Mary and Susan and Emily
+With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!'
+
+When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
+Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
+Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
+To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha ha he!'
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+
+Sweet dreams, form a shade
+O'er my lovely infant's head!
+Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
+By happy, silent, moony beams!
+
+Sweet Sleep, with soft down
+Weave thy brows an infant crown!
+Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
+Hover o'er my happy child!
+
+Sweet smiles, in the night
+Hover over my delight!
+Sweet smiles, mother's smiles,
+All the livelong night beguiles.
+
+Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
+Chase not slumber from thy eyes!
+Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
+All the dovelike moans beguiles.
+
+Sleep, sleep, happy child!
+All creation slept and smiled.
+Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
+While o'er thee thy mother weep.
+
+Sweet babe, in thy face
+Holy image I can trace;
+Sweet babe, once like thee
+Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
+
+Wept for me, for thee, for all,
+When He was an infant small.
+Thou His image ever see,
+Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
+
+Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
+Who became an infant small;
+Infant smiles are His own smiles;
+Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
+
+
+
+THE DIVINE IMAGE
+
+
+
+To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+All pray in their distress,
+And to these virtues of delight
+Return their thankfulness.
+
+For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+Is God our Father dear;
+And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
+Is man, His child and care.
+
+For Mercy has a human heart;
+Pity, a human face;
+And Love, the human form divine:
+And Peace the human dress.
+
+Then every man, of every clime,
+That prays in his distress,
+Prays to the human form divine:
+Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
+
+And all must love the human form,
+In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
+Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
+There God is dwelling too.
+
+
+
+HOLY THURSDAY
+
+
+
+'Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
+The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green:
+Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
+Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.
+
+O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
+Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.
+The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
+Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
+
+Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
+Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
+Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.
+Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
+
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+
+
+The sun descending in the West,
+The evening star does shine;
+The birds are silent in their nest,
+And I must seek for mine.
+The moon, like a flower
+In heaven's high bower,
+With silent delight,
+Sits and smiles on the night.
+
+Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
+Where flocks have took delight,
+Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
+The feet of angels bright;
+Unseen, they pour blessing,
+And joy without ceasing,
+On each bud and blossom,
+And each sleeping bosom.
+
+They look in every thoughtless nest
+Where birds are covered warm;
+They visit caves of every beast,
+To keep them all from harm:
+If they see any weeping
+That should have been sleeping,
+They pour sleep on their head,
+And sit down by their bed.
+
+When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
+They pitying stand and weep;
+Seeking to drive their thirst away,
+And keep them from the sheep.
+But, if they rush dreadful,
+The angels, most heedful,
+Receive each mild spirit,
+New worlds to inherit.
+
+And there the lion's ruddy eyes
+Shall flow with tears of gold:
+And pitying the tender cries,
+And walking round the fold:
+Saying:  'Wrath by His meekness,
+And, by His health, sickness,
+Is driven away
+From our immortal day.
+
+'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
+I can lie down and sleep,
+Or think on Him who bore thy name,
+Graze after thee, and weep.
+For, washed in life's river,
+My bright mane for ever
+Shall shine like the gold,
+As I guard o'er the fold.'
+
+
+
+SPRING
+
+
+
+Sound the flute!
+Now it's mute!
+Birds delight,
+Day and night,
+Nightingale,
+In the dale,
+Lark in sky, -
+Merrily,
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+
+Little boy,
+Full of joy;
+Little girl,
+Sweet and small;
+Cock does crow,
+So do you;
+Merry voice,
+Infant noise;
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+
+Little lamb,
+Here I am;
+Come and lick
+My white neck;
+Let me pull
+Your soft wool;
+Let me kiss
+Your soft face;
+Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.
+
+
+
+NURSE'S SONG
+
+
+
+When voices of children are heard on the green,
+And laughing is heard on the hill,
+My heart is at rest within my breast,
+And everything else is still.
+'Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
+And the dews of night arise;
+Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,
+Till the morning appears in the skies.'
+
+'No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
+And we cannot go to sleep;
+Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
+And the hills are all covered with sheep.'
+'Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
+And then go home to bed.'
+The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
+And all the hills echoed.
+
+
+
+INFANT JOY
+
+
+
+'I have no name;
+I am but two days old.'
+What shall I call thee?
+'I happy am,
+Joy is my name.'
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+
+Pretty joy!
+Sweet joy, but two days old.
+Sweet joy I call thee:
+Thou dost smile,
+I sing the while;
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+
+
+
+A DREAM
+
+
+
+Once a dream did weave a shade
+O'er my angel-guarded bed,
+That an emmet lost its way
+Where on grass methought I lay.
+
+Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
+Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
+Over many a tangled spray,
+All heart-broke, I heard her say:
+
+'O my children! do they cry,
+Do they hear their father sigh?
+Now they look abroad to see,
+Now return and weep for me.'
+
+Pitying, I dropped a tear:
+But I saw a glow-worm near,
+Who replied, 'What wailing wight
+Calls the watchman of the night?'
+
+'I am set to light the ground,
+While the beetle goes his round:
+Follow now the beetle's hum;
+Little wanderer, hie thee home!'
+
+
+
+ON ANOTHER'S SORROW
+
+
+
+Can I see another's woe,
+And not be in sorrow too?
+Can I see another's grief,
+And not seek for kind relief?
+
+Can I see a falling tear,
+And not feel my sorrow's share?
+Can a father see his child
+Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
+
+Can a mother sit and hear
+An infant groan, an infant fear?
+No, no! never can it be!
+Never, never can it be!
+
+And can He who smiles on all
+Hear the wren with sorrows small,
+Hear the small bird's grief and care,
+Hear the woes that infants bear -
+
+And not sit beside the nest,
+Pouring pity in their breast,
+And not sit the cradle near,
+Weeping tear on infant's tear?
+
+And not sit both night and day,
+Wiping all our tears away?
+O no! never can it be!
+Never, never can it be!
+
+He doth give His joy to all:
+He becomes an infant small,
+He becomes a man of woe,
+He doth feel the sorrow too.
+
+Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
+And thy Maker is not by:
+Think not thou canst weep a tear,
+And thy Maker is not near.
+
+O He gives to us His joy,
+That our grief He may destroy:
+Till our grief is fled and gone
+He doth sit by us and moan.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+Hear the voice of the Bard,
+Who present, past, and future, sees;
+Whose ears have heard
+The Holy Word
+That walked among the ancient trees;
+
+Calling the lapsed soul,
+And weeping in the evening dew;
+That might control
+The starry pole,
+And fallen, fallen light renew!
+
+'O Earth, O Earth, return!
+Arise from out the dewy grass!
+Night is worn,
+And the morn
+Rises from the slumbrous mass.
+
+'Turn away no more;
+Why wilt thou turn away?
+The starry floor,
+The watery shore,
+Is given thee till the break of day.'
+
+
+
+EARTH'S ANSWER
+
+
+
+Earth raised up her head
+From the darkness dread and drear,
+Her light fled,
+Stony, dread,
+And her locks covered with grey despair.
+
+'Prisoned on watery shore,
+Starry jealousy does keep my den
+Cold and hoar;
+Weeping o'er,
+I hear the father of the ancient men.
+
+'Selfish father of men!
+Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
+Can delight,
+Chained in night,
+The virgins of youth and morning bear.
+
+'Does spring hide its joy,
+When buds and blossoms grow?
+Does the sower
+Sow by night,
+Or the ploughman in darkness plough?
+
+'Break this heavy chain,
+That does freeze my bones around!
+Selfish, vain,
+Eternal bane,
+That free love with bondage bound.'
+
+
+
+THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE
+
+
+
+'Love seeketh not itself to please,
+Nor for itself hath any care,
+But for another gives its ease,
+And builds a heaven in hell's despair.'
+
+So sung a little clod of clay,
+Trodden with the cattle's feet,
+But a pebble of the brook
+Warbled out these metres meet:
+
+'Love seeketh only Self to please,
+To bind another to its delight,
+Joys in another's loss of ease,
+And builds a hell in heaven's despite.'
+
+
+
+HOLY THURSDAY
+
+
+
+Is this a holy thing to see
+In a rich and fruitful land, -
+Babes reduced to misery,
+Fed with cold and usurous hand?
+
+Is that trembling cry a song?
+Can it be a song of joy?
+And so many children poor?
+It is a land of poverty!
+
+And their sun does never shine,
+And their fields are bleak and bare,
+And their ways are filled with thorns,
+It is eternal winter there.
+
+For where'er the sun does shine,
+And where'er the rain does fall,
+Babe can never hunger there,
+Nor poverty the mind appal.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL LOST
+
+
+
+In futurity
+I prophesy
+That the earth from sleep
+(Grave the sentence deep)
+
+Shall arise, and seek
+For her Maker meek;
+And the desert wild
+Become a garden mild.
+
+In the southern clime,
+Where the summer's prime
+Never fades away,
+Lovely Lyca lay.
+
+Seven summers old
+Lovely Lyca told.
+She had wandered long,
+Hearing wild birds' song.
+
+'Sweet sleep, come to me,
+Underneath this tree;
+Do father, mother, weep?
+Where can Lyca sleep?
+
+'Lost in desert wild
+Is your little child.
+How can Lyca sleep
+If her mother weep?
+
+'If her heart does ache,
+Then let Lyca wake;
+If my mother sleep,
+Lyca shall not weep.
+
+'Frowning, frowning night,
+O'er this desert bright
+Let thy moon arise,
+While I close my eyes.'
+
+Sleeping Lyca lay,
+While the beasts of prey,
+Come from caverns deep,
+Viewed the maid asleep.
+
+The kingly lion stood,
+And the virgin viewed:
+Then he gambolled round
+O'er the hallowed ground.
+
+Leopards, tigers, play
+Round her as she lay;
+While the lion old
+Bowed his mane of gold,
+
+And her bosom lick,
+And upon her neck,
+From his eyes of flame,
+Ruby tears there came;
+
+While the lioness
+Loosed her slender dress,
+And naked they conveyed
+To caves the sleeping maid.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND
+
+
+
+All the night in woe
+Lyca's parents go
+Over valleys deep,
+While the deserts weep.
+
+Tired and woe-begone,
+Hoarse with making moan,
+Arm in arm, seven days
+They traced the desert ways.
+
+Seven nights they sleep
+Among shadows deep,
+And dream they see their child
+Starved in desert wild.
+
+Pale through pathless ways
+The fancied image strays,
+Famished, weeping, weak,
+With hollow piteous shriek.
+
+Rising from unrest,
+The trembling woman pressed
+With feet of weary woe;
+She could no further go.
+
+In his arms he bore
+Her, armed with sorrow sore;
+Till before their way
+A couching lion lay.
+
+Turning back was vain:
+Soon his heavy mane
+Bore them to the ground,
+Then he stalked around,
+
+Smelling to his prey;
+But their fears allay
+When he licks their hands,
+And silent by them stands.
+
+They look upon his eyes,
+Filled with deep surprise;
+And wondering behold
+A spirit armed in gold.
+
+On his head a crown,
+On his shoulders down
+Flowed his golden hair.
+Gone was all their care.
+
+'Follow me,' he said;
+'Weep not for the maid;
+In my palace deep,
+Lyca lies asleep.'
+
+Then they followed
+Where the vision led,
+And saw their sleeping child
+Among tigers wild.
+
+To this day they dwell
+In a lonely dell,
+Nor fear the wolvish howl
+Nor the lion's growl.
+
+
+
+THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
+
+
+
+A little black thing among the snow,
+Crying! 'weep! weep!' in notes of woe!
+'Where are thy father and mother?  Say!' -
+'They are both gone up to the church to pray.
+
+'Because I was happy upon the heath,
+And smiled among the winter's snow,
+They clothed me in the clothes of death,
+And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
+
+'And because I am happy and dance and sing,
+They think they have done me no injury,
+And are gone to praise God and His priest and king,
+Who made up a heaven of our misery.'
+
+
+
+NURSE'S SONG
+
+
+
+When the voices of children are heard on the green,
+And whisperings are in the dale,
+The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
+My face turns green and pale.
+
+Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
+And the dews of night arise;
+Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
+And your winter and night in disguise.
+
+
+
+THE SICK ROSE
+
+
+
+O rose, thou art sick!
+The invisible worm,
+That flies in the night,
+In the howling storm,
+
+Has found out thy bed
+Of crimson joy,
+And his dark secret love
+Does thy life destroy.
+
+
+
+THE FLY
+
+
+
+Little Fly,
+Thy summer's play
+My thoughtless hand
+Has brushed away.
+
+Am not I
+A fly like thee?
+Or art not thou
+A man like me?
+
+For I dance,
+And drink, and sing,
+Till some blind hand
+Shall brush my wing.
+
+If thought is life
+And strength and breath,
+And the want
+Of thought is death;
+
+Then am I
+A happy fly.
+If I live,
+Or if I die.
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL
+
+
+
+I dreamt a dream!  What can it mean?
+And that I was a maiden Queen
+Guarded by an Angel mild:
+Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!
+
+And I wept both night and day,
+And he wiped my tears away;
+And I wept both day and night,
+And hid from him my heart's delight.
+
+So he took his wings, and fled;
+Then the morn blushed rosy red.
+I dried my tears, and armed my fears
+With ten thousand shields and spears.
+
+Soon my Angel came again;
+I was armed, he came in vain;
+For the time of youth was fled,
+And grey hairs were on my head.
+
+
+
+THE TIGER
+
+
+
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright
+In the forests of the night,
+What immortal hand or eye
+Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
+
+In what distant deeps or skies
+Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
+On what wings dare he aspire?
+What the hand dare seize the fire?
+
+And what shoulder and what art
+Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
+And, when thy heart began to beat,
+What dread hand and what dread feet?
+
+What the hammer? what the chain?
+In what furnace was thy brain?
+What the anvil? what dread grasp
+Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
+
+When the stars threw down their spears,
+And watered heaven with their tears,
+Did He smile His work to see?
+Did He who made the lamb make thee?
+
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright
+In the forests of the night,
+What immortal hand or eye
+Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
+
+
+
+MY PRETTY ROSE TREE
+
+
+
+A flower was offered to me,
+Such a flower as May never bore;
+But I said, 'I've a pretty rose tree,'
+And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
+
+Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
+To tend her by day and by night;
+But my rose turned away with jealousy,
+And her thorns were my only delight.
+
+
+
+AH, SUNFLOWER
+
+
+
+Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
+Who countest the steps of the sun;
+Seeking after that sweet golden clime
+Where the traveller's journey is done;
+
+Where the Youth pined away with desire,
+And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
+Arise from their graves, and aspire
+Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
+
+
+
+THE LILY
+
+
+
+The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
+The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
+While the Lily white shall in love delight,
+Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
+
+
+
+THE GARDEN OF LOVE
+
+
+
+I went to the Garden of Love,
+And saw what I never had seen;
+A Chapel was built in the midst,
+Where I used to play on the green.
+
+And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
+And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
+So I turned to the Garden of Love
+That so many sweet flowers bore.
+
+And I saw it was filled with graves,
+And tombstones where flowers should be;
+And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
+And binding with briars my joys and desires.
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE VAGABOND
+
+
+
+Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
+But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
+Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
+Such usage in heaven will never do well.
+
+But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
+And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
+We'd sing and we'd pray all the livelong day,
+Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
+
+Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
+And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring;
+And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
+Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
+
+And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
+His children as pleasant and happy as He,
+Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
+But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
+
+
+
+LONDON
+
+
+
+I wander through each chartered street,
+Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
+A mark in every face I meet,
+Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
+
+In every cry of every man,
+In every infant's cry of fear,
+In every voice, in every ban,
+The mind-forged manacles I hear:
+
+How the chimney-sweeper's cry
+Every blackening church appals,
+And the hapless soldier's sigh
+Runs in blood down palace-walls.
+
+But most, through midnight streets I hear
+How the youthful harlot's curse
+Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
+And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
+
+
+
+THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
+
+
+
+Pity would be no more
+If we did not make somebody poor,
+And Mercy no more could be
+If all were as happy as we.
+
+And mutual fear brings Peace,
+Till the selfish loves increase;
+Then Cruelty knits a snare,
+And spreads his baits with care.
+
+He sits down with holy fears,
+And waters the ground with tears;
+Then Humility takes its root
+Underneath his foot.
+
+Soon spreads the dismal shade
+Of Mystery over his head,
+And the caterpillar and fly
+Feed on the Mystery.
+
+And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
+Ruddy and sweet to eat,
+And the raven his nest has made
+In its thickest shade.
+
+The gods of the earth and sea
+Sought through nature to find this tree,
+But their search was all in vain:
+There grows one in the human Brain.
+
+
+
+INFANT SORROW
+
+
+
+My mother groaned, my father wept:
+Into the dangerous world I leapt,
+Helpless, naked, piping loud,
+Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
+
+Struggling in my father's hands,
+Striving against my swaddling bands,
+Bound and weary, I thought best
+To sulk upon my mother's breast.
+
+
+
+A POISON TREE
+
+
+
+I was angry with my friend:
+I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
+I was angry with my foe:
+I told it not, my wrath did grow.
+
+And I watered it in fears
+Night and morning with my tears,
+And I sunned it with smiles
+And with soft deceitful wiles.
+
+And it grew both day and night,
+Till it bore an apple bright,
+And my foe beheld it shine,
+And he knew that it was mine, -
+
+And into my garden stole
+When the night had veiled the pole;
+In the morning, glad, I see
+My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
+
+
+
+A LITTLE BOY LOST
+
+
+
+'Nought loves another as itself,
+Nor venerates another so,
+Nor is it possible to thought
+A greater than itself to know.
+
+'And, father, how can I love you
+Or any of my brothers more?
+I love you like the little bird
+That picks up crumbs around the door.'
+
+The Priest sat by and heard the child;
+In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
+He led him by his little coat,
+And all admired his priestly care.
+
+And standing on the altar high,
+'Lo, what a fiend is here!' said he:
+'One who sets reason up for judge
+Of our most holy mystery.'
+
+The weeping child could not be heard,
+The weeping parents wept in vain:
+They stripped him to his little shirt,
+And bound him in an iron chain,
+
+And burned him in a holy place
+Where many had been burned before;
+The weeping parents wept in vain.
+Are such things done on Albion's shore?
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL LOST
+
+
+
+Children of the future age,
+Reading this indignant page,
+Know that in a former time
+Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
+
+In the age of gold,
+Free from winter's cold,
+Youth and maiden bright,
+To the holy light,
+Naked in the sunny beams delight.
+
+Once a youthful pair,
+Filled with softest care,
+Met in garden bright
+Where the holy light
+Had just removed the curtains of the night.
+
+There, in rising day,
+On the grass they play;
+Parents were afar,
+Strangers came not near,
+And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
+
+Tired with kisses sweet,
+They agree to meet
+When the silent sleep
+Waves o'er heaven's deep,
+And the weary tired wanderers weep.
+
+To her father white
+Came the maiden bright;
+But his loving look,
+Like the holy book,
+All her tender limbs with terror shook.
+
+Ona, pale and weak,
+To thy father speak!
+O the trembling fear!
+O the dismal care
+That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!'
+
+
+
+A DIVINE IMAGE
+
+
+
+Cruelty has a human heart,
+And Jealousy a human face;
+Terror the human form divine,
+And Secrecy the human dress.
+
+The human dress is forged iron,
+The human form a fiery forge,
+The human face a furnace sealed,
+The human heart its hungry gorge.
+
+
+
+A CRADLE SONG
+
+
+
+Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
+Dreaming in the joys of night;
+Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
+Little sorrows sit and weep.
+
+Sweet babe, in thy face
+Soft desires I can trace,
+Secret joys and secret smiles,
+Little pretty infant wiles.
+
+As thy softest limbs I feel,
+Smiles as of the morning steal
+O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
+Where thy little heart doth rest.
+
+O the cunning wiles that creep
+In thy little heart asleep!
+When thy little heart doth wake,
+Then the dreadful light shall break.
+
+
+
+THE SCHOOLBOY
+
+
+
+I love to rise in a summer morn,
+When the birds sing on every tree;
+The distant huntsman winds his horn,
+And the skylark sings with me:
+O what sweet company!
+
+But to go to school in a summer morn, -
+O it drives all joy away!
+Under a cruel eye outworn,
+The little ones spend the day
+In sighing and dismay.
+
+Ah then at times I drooping sit,
+And spend many an anxious hour;
+Nor in my book can I take delight,
+Nor sit in learning's bower,
+Worn through with the dreary shower.
+
+How can the bird that is born for joy
+Sit in a cage and sing?
+How can a child, when fears annoy,
+But droop his tender wing,
+And forget his youthful spring!
+
+O father and mother if buds are nipped,
+And blossoms blown away;
+And if the tender plants are stripped
+Of their joy in the springing day,
+By sorrow and care's dismay, -
+
+How shall the summer arise in joy,
+Or the summer fruits appear?
+Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
+Or bless the mellowing year,
+When the blasts of winter appear?
+
+
+
+TO TIRZAH
+
+
+
+Whate'er is born of mortal birth
+Must be consumed with the earth,
+To rise from generation free:
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+
+The sexes sprung from shame and pride,
+Blowed in the morn, in evening died;
+But mercy changed death into sleep;
+The sexes rose to work and weep.
+
+Thou, mother of my mortal part,
+With cruelty didst mould my heart,
+And with false self-deceiving tears
+Didst blind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,
+
+Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,
+And me to mortal life betray.
+The death of Jesus set me free:
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD
+
+
+
+Youth of delight! come hither
+And see the opening morn,
+Image of Truth new-born.
+Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
+Dark disputes and artful teazing.
+Folly is an endless maze;
+Tangled roots perplex her ways;
+How many have fallen there!
+They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
+And feel--they know not what but care;
+And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext Songs of Innocence and Experience by Blake
+
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+Title: Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience
+<p>
+Author: William Blake
+<p>
+Release Date: October, 1999 [Etext #1934]
+<br>[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+<br>[This HTML edition was first posted on March 28, 2003]
+<p>
+Edition: 10
+<p>
+Language: English
+<p>
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+<p>
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND EXPERIENCE ***
+<p><br><br>
+This eBook was converted to HTML, with additional editing, by Jose Menendez
+from the Etext prepared by David Price from the 1901 R. Brimley Johnson edition.
+<br><br><br></DIV>
+<DIV class="book">
+<a name="title"></a><hr size="3" noshade>
+<center>
+<h1>SONGS OF INNOCENCE</h1><h2>AND</h2><h1>SONGS OF EXPERIENCE</h1><br><br><h3>BY</h3><h2>WILLIAM BLAKE</h2>
+<hr size="3" noshade>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2><br>
+<table width="89%" class="bold" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr><td width="3%">�</td><td width="47%" valign="top">
+<a href="#I">SONGS OF INNOCENCE</a><br><br>
+<a href="#1">Introduction</a><br>
+<a href="#2">The Shepherd</a><br>
+<a href="#3">The Echoing Green</a><br>
+<a href="#4">The Lamb</a><br>
+<a href="#5">The Little Black Boy</a><br>
+<a href="#6">The Blossom</a><br>
+<a href="#7">The Chimney-Sweeper</a><br>
+<a href="#8">The Little Boy Lost</a><br>
+<a href="#9">The Little Boy Found</a><br>
+<a href="#10">Laughing Song</a><br>
+<a href="#11">A Cradle Song</a><br>
+<a href="#12">The Divine Image</a><br>
+<a href="#13">Holy Thursday</a><br>
+<a href="#14">Night</a><br>
+<a href="#15">Spring</a><br>
+<a href="#16">Nurse&#8217;s Song</a><br>
+<a href="#17">Infant Joy</a><br>
+<a href="#18">A Dream</a><br>
+<a href="#19">On Another&#8217;s Sorrow</a></td>
+<td width="50%" align="right" valign="top">
+<table class="bold" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"><tr><td align="left" valign="top">
+<a href="#II">SONGS OF EXPERIENCE</a><br><br>
+<a href="#20">Introduction</a><br>
+<a href="#21">Earth&#8217;s Answer</a><br>
+<a href="#22">The Clod and the Pebble</a><br>
+<a href="#23">Holy Thursday</a><br>
+<a href="#24">The Little Girl Lost</a><br>
+<a href="#25">The Little Girl Found</a><br>
+<a href="#26">The Chimney-Sweeper</a><br>
+<a href="#27">Nurse&#8217;s Song</a><br>
+<a href="#28">The Sick Rose</a><br>
+<a href="#29">The Fly</a><br>
+<a href="#30">The Angel</a><br>
+<a href="#31">The Tiger</a><br>
+<a href="#32">My Pretty Rose Tree</a><br>
+<a href="#33">Ah, Sunflower</a><br>
+<a href="#34">The Lily</a><br>
+<a href="#35">The Garden of Love</a><br>
+<a href="#36">The Little Vagabond</a><br>
+<a href="#37">London</a><br>
+<a href="#38">The Human Abstract</a><br>
+<a href="#39">Infant Sorrow</a><br>
+<a href="#40">A Poison Tree</a><br>
+<a href="#41">A Little Boy Lost</a><br>
+<a href="#42">A Little Girl Lost</a><br>
+<a href="#43">A Divine Image</a><br>
+<a href="#44">A Cradle Song</a><br>
+<a href="#45">The Schoolboy</a><br>
+<a href="#46">To Tirzah</a><br>
+<a href="#47">The Voice of the Ancient Bard</a>
+</td></tr></table></td></tr></table>
+<br><hr><br>
+<h2><a name="I">SONGS OF INNOCENCE</a></h2>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="1">INTRODUCTION</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+Piping down the valleys wild,<br>
+Piping songs of pleasant glee,<br>
+On a cloud I saw a child,<br>
+And he laughing said to me:
+<p>
+&#8216;Pipe a song about a Lamb!&#8217;<br>
+So I piped with merry cheer.<br>
+&#8216;Piper, pipe that song again.&#8217;<br>
+So I piped: &nbsp;he wept to hear.
+<p>
+&#8216;Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;<br>
+Sing thy songs of happy cheer!&#8217;<br>
+So I sung the same again,<br>
+While he wept with joy to hear.
+<p>
+&#8216;Piper, sit thee down and write<br>
+In a book, that all may read.&#8217;<br>
+So he vanished from my sight;<br>
+And I plucked a hollow reed,
+<p>
+And I made a rural pen,<br>
+And I stained the water clear,<br>
+And I wrote my happy songs<br>
+Every child may joy to hear.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="2">THE SHEPHERD</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+How sweet is the shepherd&#8217;s sweet lot!<br>
+From the morn to the evening he strays;<br>
+He shall follow his sheep all the day,<br>
+And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
+<p>
+For he hears the lambs&#8217; innocent call,<br>
+And he hears the ewes&#8217; tender reply;<br>
+He is watchful while they are in peace,<br>
+For they know when their shepherd is nigh.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="3">THE ECHOING GREEN</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+The sun does arise,<br>
+And make happy the skies;<br>
+The merry bells ring<br>
+To welcome the Spring;<br>
+The skylark and thrush,<br>
+The birds of the bush,<br>
+Sing louder around<br>
+To the bells&#8217; cheerful sound;<br>
+While our sports shall be seen<br>
+On the echoing green.
+<p>
+Old John, with white hair,<br>
+Does laugh away care,<br>
+Sitting under the oak,<br>
+Among the old folk.<br>
+They laugh at our play,<br>
+And soon they all say,<br>
+&#8216;Such, such were the joys<br>
+When we all&#8212;girls and boys&#8212;<br>
+In our youth-time were seen<br>
+On the echoing green.&#8217;
+<p>
+Till the little ones, weary,<br>
+No more can be merry:<br>
+The sun does descend,<br>
+And our sports have an end.<br>
+Round the laps of their mothers<br>
+Many sisters and brothers,<br>
+Like birds in their nest,<br>
+Are ready for rest,<br>
+And sport no more seen<br>
+On the darkening green.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="4">THE LAMB</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Little lamb, who made thee?<br>
+Does thou know who made thee,<br>
+Gave thee life, and bid thee feed<br>
+By the stream and o&#8217;er the mead;<br>
+Gave thee clothing of delight,<br>
+Softest clothing, woolly, bright;<br>
+Gave thee such a tender voice,<br>
+Making all the vales rejoice?<br>
+Little lamb, who made thee?<br>
+Does thou know who made thee?
+<p>
+Little lamb, I&#8217;ll tell thee;<br>
+Little lamb, I&#8217;ll tell thee:<br>
+He is called by thy name,<br>
+For He calls Himself a Lamb.<br>
+He is meek, and He is mild,<br>
+He became a little child.<br>
+I a child, and thou a lamb,<br>
+We are called by His name.<br>
+Little lamb, God bless thee!<br>
+Little lamb, God bless thee!
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="5">THE LITTLE BLACK BOY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+My mother bore me in the southern wild,<br>
+And I am black, but O my soul is white!<br>
+White as an angel is the English child,<br>
+But I am black, as if bereaved of light.
+<p>
+My mother taught me underneath a tree,<br>
+And, sitting down before the heat of day,<br>
+She took me on her lap and kissed me,<br>
+And, pointing to the East, began to say:
+<p>
+&#8216;Look on the rising sun: &nbsp;there God does live,<br>
+And gives His light, and gives His heat away,<br>
+And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive<br>
+Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
+<p>
+&#8216;And we are put on earth a little space,<br>
+That we may learn to bear the beams of love;<br>
+And these black bodies and this sunburnt face<br>
+Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
+<p>
+&#8216;For, when our souls have learned the heat to bear,<br>
+The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,<br>
+Saying, &#8220;Come out from the grove, my love and care,<br>
+And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.&#8221;�&#8217;
+<p>
+Thus did my mother say, and kissed me,<br>
+And thus I say to little English boy.<br>
+When I from black, and he from white cloud free,<br>
+And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
+<p>
+I&#8217;ll shade him from the heat till he can bear<br>
+To lean in joy upon our Father&#8217;s knee;<br>
+And then I&#8217;ll stand and stroke his silver hair,<br>
+And be like him, and he will then love me.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="6">THE BLOSSOM</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Merry, merry sparrow!<br>
+Under leaves so green<br>
+A happy blossom<br>
+Sees you, swift as arrow,<br>
+Seek your cradle narrow,<br>
+Near my bosom.<br>
+Pretty, pretty robin!<br>
+Under leaves so green<br>
+A happy blossom<br>
+Hears you sobbing, sobbing,<br>
+Pretty, pretty robin,<br>
+Near my bosom.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="7">THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+When my mother died I was very young,<br>
+And my father sold me while yet my tongue<br>
+Could scarcely cry &#8216;Weep! weep! weep! weep!&#8217;<br>
+So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
+<p>
+There&#8217;s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,<br>
+That curled like a lamb&#8217;s back, was shaved; so I said,<br>
+&#8216;Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head&#8217;s bare,<br>
+You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.&#8217;
+<p>
+And so he was quiet, and that very night,<br>
+As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!&#8212;<br>
+That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,<br>
+Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
+<p>
+And by came an angel, who had a bright key,<br>
+And he opened the coffins, and set them all free;<br>
+Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run<br>
+And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
+<p>
+Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,<br>
+They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind:<br>
+And the angel told Tom, if he&#8217;d be a good boy,<br>
+He&#8217;d have God for his father, and never want joy.
+<p>
+And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,<br>
+And got with our bags and our brushes to work.<br>
+Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:<br>
+So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="8">THE LITTLE BOY LOST</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+&#8216;Father, father, where are you going?<br>
+O do not walk so fast!<br>
+Speak, father, speak to your little boy,<br>
+Or else I shall be lost.&#8217;
+<p>
+The night was dark, no father was there,<br>
+The child was wet with dew;<br>
+The mire was deep, and the child did weep,<br>
+And away the vapour flew.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="9">THE LITTLE BOY FOUND</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+The little boy lost in the lonely fen,<br>
+Led by the wandering light,<br>
+Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,<br>
+Appeared like his father, in white.
+<p>
+He kissed the child, and by the hand led,<br>
+And to his mother brought,<br>
+Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,<br>
+Her little boy weeping sought.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="10">LAUGHING SONG</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,<br>
+And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;<br>
+When the air does laugh with our merry wit,<br>
+And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
+<p>
+When the meadows laugh with lively green,<br>
+And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;<br>
+When Mary and Susan and Emily<br>
+With their sweet round mouths sing &#8216;Ha ha he!&#8217;
+<p>
+When the painted birds laugh in the shade,<br>
+Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:<br>
+Come live, and be merry, and join with me,<br>
+To sing the sweet chorus of &#8216;Ha ha he!&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="11">A CRADLE SONG</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Sweet dreams, form a shade<br>
+O&#8217;er my lovely infant&#8217;s head!<br>
+Sweet dreams of pleasant streams<br>
+By happy, silent, moony beams!
+<p>
+Sweet Sleep, with soft down<br>
+Weave thy brows an infant crown!<br>
+Sweet Sleep, angel mild,<br>
+Hover o&#8217;er my happy child!
+<p>
+Sweet smiles, in the night<br>
+Hover over my delight!<br>
+Sweet smiles, mother&#8217;s smiles,<br>
+All the livelong night beguiles.
+<p>
+Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,<br>
+Chase not slumber from thy eyes!<br>
+Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,<br>
+All the dovelike moans beguiles.
+<p>
+Sleep, sleep, happy child!<br>
+All creation slept and smiled.<br>
+Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,<br>
+While o&#8217;er thee thy mother weep.
+<p>
+Sweet babe, in thy face<br>
+Holy image I can trace;<br>
+Sweet babe, once like thee<br>
+Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
+<p>
+Wept for me, for thee, for all,<br>
+When He was an infant small.<br>
+Thou His image ever see,<br>
+Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
+<p>
+Smiles on thee, on me, on all,<br>
+Who became an infant small;<br>
+Infant smiles are His own smiles;<br>
+Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="12">THE DIVINE IMAGE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,<br>
+All pray in their distress,<br>
+And to these virtues of delight<br>
+Return their thankfulness.
+<p>
+For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,<br>
+Is God our Father dear;<br>
+And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,<br>
+Is man, His child and care.
+<p>
+For Mercy has a human heart;<br>
+Pity, a human face;<br>
+And Love, the human form divine:<br>
+And Peace, the human dress.
+<p>
+Then every man, of every clime,<br>
+That prays in his distress,<br>
+Prays to the human form divine:<br>
+Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
+<p>
+And all must love the human form,<br>
+In heathen, Turk, or Jew.<br>
+Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,<br>
+There God is dwelling too.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="13">HOLY THURSDAY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+&#8217;Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,<br>
+The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green:<br>
+Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,<br>
+Till into the high dome of Paul&#8217;s they like Thames waters flow.
+<p>
+O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!<br>
+Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.<br>
+The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,<br>
+Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
+<p>
+Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,<br>
+Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:<br>
+Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.<br>
+Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="14">NIGHT</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+The sun descending in the West,<br>
+The evening star does shine;<br>
+The birds are silent in their nest,<br>
+And I must seek for mine.<br>
+The moon, like a flower<br>
+In heaven&#8217;s high bower,<br>
+With silent delight,<br>
+Sits and smiles on the night.
+<p>
+Farewell, green fields and happy groves,<br>
+Where flocks have took delight,<br>
+Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves<br>
+The feet of angels bright;<br>
+Unseen, they pour blessing,<br>
+And joy without ceasing,<br>
+On each bud and blossom,<br>
+And each sleeping bosom.
+<p>
+They look in every thoughtless nest<br>
+Where birds are covered warm;<br>
+They visit caves of every beast,<br>
+To keep them all from harm:<br>
+If they see any weeping<br>
+That should have been sleeping,<br>
+They pour sleep on their head,<br>
+And sit down by their bed.
+<p>
+When wolves and tigers howl for prey,<br>
+They pitying stand and weep;<br>
+Seeking to drive their thirst away,<br>
+And keep them from the sheep.<br>
+But, if they rush dreadful,<br>
+The angels, most heedful,<br>
+Receive each mild spirit,<br>
+New worlds to inherit.
+<p>
+And there the lion&#8217;s ruddy eyes<br>
+Shall flow with tears of gold:<br>
+And pitying the tender cries,<br>
+And walking round the fold:<br>
+Saying: &nbsp;&#8216;Wrath by His meekness,<br>
+And, by His health, sickness,<br>
+Is driven away<br>
+From our immortal day.
+<p>
+&#8216;And now beside thee, bleating lamb,<br>
+I can lie down and sleep,<br>
+Or think on Him who bore thy name,<br>
+Graze after thee, and weep.<br>
+For, washed in life&#8217;s river,<br>
+My bright mane for ever<br>
+Shall shine like the gold,<br>
+As I guard o&#8217;er the fold.&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="15">SPRING</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Sound the flute!<br>
+Now it&#8217;s mute!<br>
+Birds delight,<br>
+Day and night,<br>
+Nightingale,<br>
+In the dale,<br>
+Lark in sky,&#8212;<br>
+Merrily,<br>
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+<p>
+Little boy,<br>
+Full of joy;<br>
+Little girl,<br>
+Sweet and small;<br>
+Cock does crow,<br>
+So do you;<br>
+Merry voice,<br>
+Infant noise;<br>
+Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.
+<p>
+Little lamb,<br>
+Here I am;<br>
+Come and lick<br>
+My white neck;<br>
+Let me pull<br>
+Your soft wool;<br>
+Let me kiss<br>
+Your soft face;<br>
+Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="16">NURSE&#8217;S SONG</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+When voices of children are heard on the green,<br>
+And laughing is heard on the hill,<br>
+My heart is at rest within my breast,<br>
+And everything else is still.<br>
+&#8216;Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,<br>
+And the dews of night arise;<br>
+Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,<br>
+Till the morning appears in the skies.&#8217;
+<p>
+&#8216;No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,<br>
+And we cannot go to sleep;<br>
+Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,<br>
+And the hills are all covered with sheep.&#8217;<br>
+&#8216;Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,<br>
+And then go home to bed.&#8217;<br>
+The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,<br>
+And all the hills echoed.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="17">INFANT JOY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+&#8216;I have no name;<br>
+I am but two days old.&#8217;<br>
+What shall I call thee?<br>
+&#8216;I happy am,<br>
+Joy is my name.&#8217;<br>
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+<p>
+Pretty joy!<br>
+Sweet joy, but two days old.<br>
+Sweet joy I call thee:<br>
+Thou dost smile,<br>
+I sing the while;<br>
+Sweet joy befall thee!
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="18">A DREAM</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poem">
+<tr><td>
+Once a dream did weave a shade<br>
+O&#8217;er my angel-guarded bed,<br>
+That an emmet lost its way<br>
+Where on grass methought I lay.
+<p>
+Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,<br>
+Dark, benighted, travel-worn,<br>
+Over many a tangled spray,<br>
+All heart-broke, I heard her say:
+<p>
+&#8216;O my children! do they cry,<br>
+Do they hear their father sigh?<br>
+Now they look abroad to see,<br>
+Now return and weep for me.&#8217;
+<p>
+Pitying, I dropped a tear:<br>
+But I saw a glow-worm near,<br>
+Who replied, &#8216;What wailing wight<br>
+Calls the watchman of the night?
+<p>
+&#8216;I am set to light the ground,<br>
+While the beetle goes his round:<br>
+Follow now the beetle&#8217;s hum;<br>
+Little wanderer, hie thee home!&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="19">ON ANOTHER&#8217;S SORROW</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Can I see another&#8217;s woe,<br>
+And not be in sorrow too?<br>
+Can I see another&#8217;s grief,<br>
+And not seek for kind relief?
+<p>
+Can I see a falling tear,<br>
+And not feel my sorrow&#8217;s share?<br>
+Can a father see his child<br>
+Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
+<p>
+Can a mother sit and hear<br>
+An infant groan, an infant fear?<br>
+No, no! never can it be!<br>
+Never, never can it be!
+<p>
+And can He who smiles on all<br>
+Hear the wren with sorrows small,<br>
+Hear the small bird&#8217;s grief and care,<br>
+Hear the woes that infants bear&#8212;
+<p>
+And not sit beside the nest,<br>
+Pouring pity in their breast,<br>
+And not sit the cradle near,<br>
+Weeping tear on infant&#8217;s tear?
+<p>
+And not sit both night and day,<br>
+Wiping all our tears away?<br>
+O no! never can it be!<br>
+Never, never can it be!
+<p>
+He doth give His joy to all:<br>
+He becomes an infant small,<br>
+He becomes a man of woe,<br>
+He doth feel the sorrow too.
+<p>
+Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,<br>
+And thy Maker is not by:<br>
+Think not thou canst weep a tear,<br>
+And thy Maker is not near.
+<p>
+O He gives to us His joy,<br>
+That our grief He may destroy:<br>
+Till our grief is fled and gone<br>
+He doth sit by us and moan.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<br><br><hr><br>
+<h2><a name="II">SONGS OF EXPERIENCE</a></h2>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="20">INTRODUCTION</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Hear the voice of the Bard,<br>
+Who present, past, and future, sees;<br>
+Whose ears have heard<br>
+The Holy Word<br>
+That walked among the ancient trees;
+<p>
+Calling the lapsed soul,<br>
+And weeping in the evening dew;<br>
+That might control<br>
+The starry pole,<br>
+And fallen, fallen light renew!
+<p>
+&#8216;O Earth, O Earth, return!<br>
+Arise from out the dewy grass!<br>
+Night is worn,<br>
+And the morn<br>
+Rises from the slumbrous mass.
+<p>
+&#8216;Turn away no more;<br>
+Why wilt thou turn away?<br>
+The starry floor,<br>
+The watery shore,<br>
+Is given thee till the break of day.&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="21">EARTH&#8217;S ANSWER</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Earth raised up her head<br>
+From the darkness dread and drear,<br>
+Her light fled,<br>
+Stony, dread,<br>
+And her locks covered with grey despair.
+<p>
+&#8216;Prisoned on watery shore,<br>
+Starry jealousy does keep my den<br>
+Cold and hoar;<br>
+Weeping o&#8217;er,<br>
+I hear the father of the ancient men.
+<p>
+&#8216;Selfish father of men!<br>
+Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!<br>
+Can delight,<br>
+Chained in night,<br>
+The virgins of youth and morning bear.
+<p>
+&#8216;Does spring hide its joy,<br>
+When buds and blossoms grow?<br>
+Does the sower<br>
+Sow by night,<br>
+Or the ploughman in darkness plough?
+<p>
+&#8216;Break this heavy chain,<br>
+That does freeze my bones around!<br>
+Selfish, vain,<br>
+Eternal bane,<br>
+That free love with bondage bound.&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="22">THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+&#8216;Love seeketh not itself to please,<br>
+Nor for itself hath any care,<br>
+But for another gives its ease,<br>
+And builds a heaven in hell&#8217;s despair.&#8217;
+<p>
+So sung a little clod of clay,<br>
+Trodden with the cattle&#8217;s feet,<br>
+But a pebble of the brook<br>
+Warbled out these metres meet:
+<p>
+&#8216;Love seeketh only Self to please,<br>
+To bind another to its delight,<br>
+Joys in another&#8217;s loss of ease,<br>
+And builds a hell in heaven&#8217;s despite.&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="23">HOLY THURSDAY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Is this a holy thing to see<br>
+In a rich and fruitful land,&#8212;<br>
+Babes reduced to misery,<br>
+Fed with cold and usurous hand?
+<p>
+Is that trembling cry a song?<br>
+Can it be a song of joy?<br>
+And so many children poor?<br>
+It is a land of poverty!
+<p>
+And their sun does never shine,<br>
+And their fields are bleak and bare,<br>
+And their ways are filled with thorns,<br>
+It is eternal winter there.
+<p>
+For where&#8217;er the sun does shine,<br>
+And where&#8217;er the rain does fall,<br>
+Babe can never hunger there,<br>
+Nor poverty the mind appal.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="24">THE LITTLE GIRL LOST</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+In futurity<br>
+I prophesy<br>
+That the earth from sleep<br>
+(Grave the sentence deep)
+<p>
+Shall arise, and seek<br>
+For her Maker meek;<br>
+And the desert wild<br>
+Become a garden mild.
+<p>
+In the southern clime,<br>
+Where the summer&#8217;s prime<br>
+Never fades away,<br>
+Lovely Lyca lay.
+<p>
+Seven summers old<br>
+Lovely Lyca told.<br>
+She had wandered long,<br>
+Hearing wild birds&#8217; song.
+<p>
+&#8216;Sweet sleep, come to me,<br>
+Underneath this tree;<br>
+Do father, mother, weep?<br>
+Where can Lyca sleep?
+<p>
+&#8216;Lost in desert wild<br>
+Is your little child.<br>
+How can Lyca sleep<br>
+If her mother weep?
+<p>
+&#8216;If her heart does ache,<br>
+Then let Lyca wake;<br>
+If my mother sleep,<br>
+Lyca shall not weep.
+<p>
+&#8216;Frowning, frowning night,<br>
+O&#8217;er this desert bright<br>
+Let thy moon arise,<br>
+While I close my eyes.&#8217;
+<p>
+Sleeping Lyca lay,<br>
+While the beasts of prey,<br>
+Come from caverns deep,<br>
+Viewed the maid asleep.
+<p>
+The kingly lion stood,<br>
+And the virgin viewed:<br>
+Then he gambolled round<br>
+O&#8217;er the hallowed ground.
+<p>
+Leopards, tigers, play<br>
+Round her as she lay;<br>
+While the lion old<br>
+Bowed his mane of gold,
+<p>
+And her bosom lick,<br>
+And upon her neck,<br>
+From his eyes of flame,<br>
+Ruby tears there came;
+<p>
+While the lioness<br>
+Loosed her slender dress,<br>
+And naked they conveyed<br>
+To caves the sleeping maid.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="25">THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+All the night in woe<br>
+Lyca&#8217;s parents go<br>
+Over valleys deep,<br>
+While the deserts weep.
+<p>
+Tired and woe-begone,<br>
+Hoarse with making moan,<br>
+Arm in arm, seven days<br>
+They traced the desert ways.
+<p>
+Seven nights they sleep<br>
+Among shadows deep,<br>
+And dream they see their child<br>
+Starved in desert wild.
+<p>
+Pale through pathless ways<br>
+The fancied image strays,<br>
+Famished, weeping, weak,<br>
+With hollow piteous shriek.
+<p>
+Rising from unrest,<br>
+The trembling woman pressed<br>
+With feet of weary woe;<br>
+She could no further go.
+<p>
+In his arms he bore<br>
+Her, armed with sorrow sore;<br>
+Till before their way<br>
+A couching lion lay.
+<p>
+Turning back was vain:<br>
+Soon his heavy mane<br>
+Bore them to the ground,<br>
+Then he stalked around,
+<p>
+Smelling to his prey;<br>
+But their fears allay<br>
+When he licks their hands,<br>
+And silent by them stands.
+<p>
+They look upon his eyes,<br>
+Filled with deep surprise;<br>
+And wondering behold<br>
+A spirit armed in gold.
+<p>
+On his head a crown,<br>
+On his shoulders down<br>
+Flowed his golden hair.<br>
+Gone was all their care.
+<p>
+&#8216;Follow me,&#8217; he said;<br>
+&#8216;Weep not for the maid;<br>
+In my palace deep,<br>
+Lyca lies asleep.&#8217;
+<p>
+Then they followed<br>
+Where the vision led,<br>
+And saw their sleeping child<br>
+Among tigers wild.
+<p>
+To this day they dwell<br>
+In a lonely dell,<br>
+Nor fear the wolvish howl<br>
+Nor the lion&#8217;s growl.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="26">THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+A little black thing among the snow,<br>
+Crying! &#8216;weep! weep!&#8217; in notes of woe!<br>
+&#8216;Where are thy father and mother? &nbsp;Say!&#8217;&#8212;<br>
+&#8216;They are both gone up to the church to pray.
+<p>
+&#8216;Because I was happy upon the heath,<br>
+And smiled among the winter&#8217;s snow,<br>
+They clothed me in the clothes of death,<br>
+And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
+<p>
+&#8216;And because I am happy and dance and sing,<br>
+They think they have done me no injury,<br>
+And are gone to praise God and His priest and king,<br>
+Who made up a heaven of our misery.&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="27">NURSE&#8217;S SONG</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+When the voices of children are heard on the green,<br>
+And whisperings are in the dale,<br>
+The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,<br>
+My face turns green and pale.
+<p>
+Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,<br>
+And the dews of night arise;<br>
+Your spring and your day are wasted in play,<br>
+And your winter and night in disguise.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="28">THE SICK ROSE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+O rose, thou art sick!<br>
+The invisible worm,<br>
+That flies in the night,<br>
+In the howling storm,
+<p>
+Has found out thy bed<br>
+Of crimson joy,<br>
+And his dark secret love<br>
+Does thy life destroy.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="29">THE FLY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Little Fly,<br>
+Thy summer&#8217;s play<br>
+My thoughtless hand<br>
+Has brushed away.
+<p>
+Am not I<br>
+A fly like thee?<br>
+Or art not thou<br>
+A man like me?
+<p>
+For I dance,<br>
+And drink, and sing,<br>
+Till some blind hand<br>
+Shall brush my wing.
+<p>
+If thought is life<br>
+And strength and breath,<br>
+And the want<br>
+Of thought is death;
+<p>
+Then am I<br>
+A happy fly.<br>
+If I live,<br>
+Or if I die.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="30">THE ANGEL</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+I dreamt a dream! &nbsp;What can it mean?<br>
+And that I was a maiden Queen<br>
+Guarded by an Angel mild:<br>
+Witless woe was ne&#8217;er beguiled!
+<p>
+And I wept both night and day,<br>
+And he wiped my tears away;<br>
+And I wept both day and night,<br>
+And hid from him my heart&#8217;s delight.
+<p>
+So he took his wings, and fled;<br>
+Then the morn blushed rosy red.<br>
+I dried my tears, and armed my fears<br>
+With ten thousand shields and spears.
+<p>
+Soon my Angel came again;<br>
+I was armed, he came in vain;<br>
+For the time of youth was fled,<br>
+And grey hairs were on my head.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="31">THE TIGER</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright<br>
+In the forests of the night,<br>
+What immortal hand or eye<br>
+Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
+<p>
+In what distant deeps or skies<br>
+Burnt the fire of thine eyes?<br>
+On what wings dare he aspire?<br>
+What the hand dare seize the fire?
+<p>
+And what shoulder and what art<br>
+Could twist the sinews of thy heart?<br>
+And, when thy heart began to beat,<br>
+What dread hand and what dread feet?
+<p>
+What the hammer? what the chain?<br>
+In what furnace was thy brain?<br>
+What the anvil? what dread grasp<br>
+Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
+<p>
+When the stars threw down their spears,<br>
+And watered heaven with their tears,<br>
+Did He smile His work to see?<br>
+Did He who made the lamb make thee?
+<p>
+Tiger, tiger, burning bright<br>
+In the forests of the night,<br>
+What immortal hand or eye<br>
+Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="32">MY PRETTY ROSE TREE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+A flower was offered to me,<br>
+Such a flower as May never bore;<br>
+But I said, &#8216;I&#8217;ve a pretty rose tree,&#8217;<br>
+And I passed the sweet flower o&#8217;er.
+<p>
+Then I went to my pretty rose tree,<br>
+To tend her by day and by night;<br>
+But my rose turned away with jealousy,<br>
+And her thorns were my only delight.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="33">AH, SUNFLOWER</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Ah, sunflower, weary of time,<br>
+Who countest the steps of the sun;<br>
+Seeking after that sweet golden clime<br>
+Where the traveller&#8217;s journey is done;
+<p>
+Where the Youth pined away with desire,<br>
+And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,<br>
+Arise from their graves, and aspire<br>
+Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="34">THE LILY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,<br>
+The humble sheep a threat&#8217;ning horn:<br>
+While the Lily white shall in love delight,<br>
+Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="35">THE GARDEN OF LOVE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+I went to the Garden of Love,<br>
+And saw what I never had seen;<br>
+A Chapel was built in the midst,<br>
+Where I used to play on the green.
+<p>
+And the gates of this Chapel were shut,<br>
+And &#8216;Thou shalt not&#8217; writ over the door;<br>
+So I turned to the Garden of Love<br>
+That so many sweet flowers bore.
+<p>
+And I saw it was filled with graves,<br>
+And tombstones where flowers should be;<br>
+And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,<br>
+And binding with briars my joys and desires.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="36">THE LITTLE VAGABOND</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;<br>
+But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.<br>
+Besides, I can tell where I am used well;<br>
+Such usage in heaven will never do well.
+<p>
+But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,<br>
+And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,<br>
+We&#8217;d sing and we&#8217;d pray all the livelong day,<br>
+Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
+<p>
+Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,<br>
+And we&#8217;d be as happy as birds in the spring;<br>
+And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,<br>
+Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
+<p>
+And God, like a father, rejoicing to see<br>
+His children as pleasant and happy as He,<br>
+Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,<br>
+But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="37">LONDON</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+I wander through each chartered street,<br>
+Near where the chartered Thames does flow,<br>
+A mark in every face I meet,<br>
+Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
+<p>
+In every cry of every man,<br>
+In every infant&#8217;s cry of fear,<br>
+In every voice, in every ban,<br>
+The mind-forged manacles I hear:
+<p>
+How the chimney-sweeper&#8217;s cry<br>
+Every blackening church appals,<br>
+And the hapless soldier&#8217;s sigh<br>
+Runs in blood down palace-walls.
+<p>
+But most, through midnight streets I hear<br>
+How the youthful harlot&#8217;s curse<br>
+Blasts the new-born infant&#8217;s tear,<br>
+And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="38">THE HUMAN ABSTRACT</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Pity would be no more<br>
+If we did not make somebody poor,<br>
+And Mercy no more could be<br>
+If all were as happy as we.
+<p>
+And mutual fear brings Peace,<br>
+Till the selfish loves increase;<br>
+Then Cruelty knits a snare,<br>
+And spreads his baits with care.
+<p>
+He sits down with his holy fears,<br>
+And waters the ground with tears;<br>
+Then Humility takes its root<br>
+Underneath his foot.
+<p>
+Soon spreads the dismal shade<br>
+Of Mystery over his head,<br>
+And the caterpillar and fly<br>
+Feed on the Mystery.
+<p>
+And it bears the fruit of Deceit,<br>
+Ruddy and sweet to eat,<br>
+And the raven his nest has made<br>
+In its thickest shade.
+<p>
+The gods of the earth and sea<br>
+Sought through nature to find this tree,<br>
+But their search was all in vain:<br>
+There grows one in the human Brain.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="39">INFANT SORROW</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+My mother groaned, my father wept:<br>
+Into the dangerous world I leapt,<br>
+Helpless, naked, piping loud,<br>
+Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
+<p>
+Struggling in my father&#8217;s hands,<br>
+Striving against my swaddling bands,<br>
+Bound and weary, I thought best<br>
+To sulk upon my mother&#8217;s breast.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="40">A POISON TREE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+I was angry with my friend:<br>
+I told my wrath, my wrath did end.<br>
+I was angry with my foe:<br>
+I told it not, my wrath did grow.
+<p>
+And I watered it in fears<br>
+Night and morning with my tears,<br>
+And I sunned it with smiles<br>
+And with soft deceitful wiles.
+<p>
+And it grew both day and night,<br>
+Till it bore an apple bright,<br>
+And my foe beheld it shine,<br>
+And he knew that it was mine,&#8212;
+<p>
+And into my garden stole<br>
+When the night had veiled the pole;<br>
+In the morning, glad, I see<br>
+My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="41">A LITTLE BOY LOST</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+&#8216;Nought loves another as itself,<br>
+Nor venerates another so,<br>
+Nor is it possible to thought<br>
+A greater than itself to know.
+<p>
+&#8216;And, father, how can I love you<br>
+Or any of my brothers more?<br>
+I love you like the little bird<br>
+That picks up crumbs around the door.&#8217;
+<p>
+The Priest sat by and heard the child;<br>
+In trembling zeal he seized his hair,<br>
+He led him by his little coat,<br>
+And all admired his priestly care.
+<p>
+And standing on the altar high,<br>
+&#8216;Lo, what a fiend is here!&#8217; said he:<br>
+&#8216;One who sets reason up for judge<br>
+Of our most holy mystery.&#8217;
+<p>
+The weeping child could not be heard,<br>
+The weeping parents wept in vain:<br>
+They stripped him to his little shirt,<br>
+And bound him in an iron chain,
+<p>
+And burned him in a holy place<br>
+Where many had been burned before;<br>
+The weeping parents wept in vain.<br>
+Are such things done on Albion&#8217;s shore?
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="42">A LITTLE GIRL LOST</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Children of the future age,<br>
+Reading this indignant page,<br>
+Know that in a former time<br>
+Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
+<p>
+In the age of gold,<br>
+Free from winter&#8217;s cold,<br>
+Youth and maiden bright,<br>
+To the holy light,<br>
+Naked in the sunny beams delight.
+<p>
+Once a youthful pair,<br>
+Filled with softest care,<br>
+Met in garden bright<br>
+Where the holy light<br>
+Had just removed the curtains of the night.
+<p>
+There, in rising day,<br>
+On the grass they play;<br>
+Parents were afar,<br>
+Strangers came not near,<br>
+And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
+<p>
+Tired with kisses sweet,<br>
+They agree to meet<br>
+When the silent sleep<br>
+Waves o&#8217;er heaven&#8217;s deep,<br>
+And the weary tired wanderers weep.
+<p>
+To her father white<br>
+Came the maiden bright;<br>
+But his loving look,<br>
+Like the holy book,<br>
+All her tender limbs with terror shook.
+<p>
+&#8216;Ona, pale and weak,<br>
+To thy father speak!<br>
+O the trembling fear!<br>
+O the dismal care<br>
+That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!&#8217;
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="43">A DIVINE IMAGE</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Cruelty has a human heart,<br>
+And Jealousy a human face;<br>
+Terror the human form divine,<br>
+And Secrecy the human dress.
+<p>
+The human dress is forged iron,<br>
+The human form a fiery forge,<br>
+The human face a furnace sealed,<br>
+The human heart its hungry gorge.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="44">A CRADLE SONG</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,<br>
+Dreaming in the joys of night;<br>
+Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep<br>
+Little sorrows sit and weep.
+<p>
+Sweet babe, in thy face<br>
+Soft desires I can trace,<br>
+Secret joys and secret smiles,<br>
+Little pretty infant wiles.
+<p>
+As thy softest limbs I feel,<br>
+Smiles as of the morning steal<br>
+O&#8217;er thy cheek, and o&#8217;er thy breast<br>
+Where thy little heart doth rest.
+<p>
+O the cunning wiles that creep<br>
+In thy little heart asleep!<br>
+When thy little heart doth wake,<br>
+Then the dreadful light shall break.
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="45">THE SCHOOLBOY</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+I love to rise in a summer morn,<br>
+When the birds sing on every tree;<br>
+The distant huntsman winds his horn,<br>
+And the skylark sings with me:<br>
+O what sweet company!
+<p>
+But to go to school in a summer morn,&#8212;<br>
+O it drives all joy away!<br>
+Under a cruel eye outworn,<br>
+The little ones spend the day<br>
+In sighing and dismay.
+<p>
+Ah then at times I drooping sit,<br>
+And spend many an anxious hour;<br>
+Nor in my book can I take delight,<br>
+Nor sit in learning&#8217;s bower,<br>
+Worn through with the dreary shower.
+<p>
+How can the bird that is born for joy<br>
+Sit in a cage and sing?<br>
+How can a child, when fears annoy,<br>
+But droop his tender wing,<br>
+And forget his youthful spring?
+<p>
+O father and mother, if buds are nipped,<br>
+And blossoms blown away;<br>
+And if the tender plants are stripped<br>
+Of their joy in the springing day,<br>
+By sorrow and care&#8217;s dismay,&#8212;
+<p>
+How shall the summer arise in joy,<br>
+Or the summer fruits appear?<br>
+Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,<br>
+Or bless the mellowing year,<br>
+When the blasts of winter appear?
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="46">TO TIRZAH</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Whate&#8217;er is born of mortal birth<br>
+Must be consumed with the earth,<br>
+To rise from generation free:<br>
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+<p>
+The sexes sprung from shame and pride,<br>
+Blowed in the morn, in evening died;<br>
+But mercy changed death into sleep;<br>
+The sexes rose to work and weep.
+<p>
+Thou, mother of my mortal part,<br>
+With cruelty didst mould my heart,<br>
+And with false self-deceiving tears<br>
+Didst blind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,
+<p>
+Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,<br>
+And me to mortal life betray.<br>
+The death of Jesus set me free:<br>
+Then what have I to do with thee?
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr width="150"><br>
+<h3><a name="47">THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD</a></h3>
+<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems">
+<tr><td>
+Youth of delight! come hither<br>
+And see the opening morn,<br>
+Image of Truth new-born.<br>
+Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,<br>
+Dark disputes and artful teazing.<br>
+Folly is an endless maze;<br>
+Tangled roots perplex her ways;<br>
+How many have fallen there!<br>
+They stumble all night over bones of the dead;<br>
+And feel&#8212;they know not what but care;<br>
+And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
+</td></tr></table></center>
+<br><hr size="3" noshade></DIV>
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