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diff --git a/old/sinex10h.htm b/old/sinex10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..839e8c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/sinex10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1789 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML><HEAD> +<TITLE>The Project Gutenberg EBook Songs of Innocence and Experience by Blake</TITLE> +<META http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +<!-- +DIV.book { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; } +TABLE.bold { font-weight: bold; } +--> +</STYLE> +</HEAD> +<BODY> +<center><h1>The Project Gutenberg EBook of<br> +<a href="#title"><i>Songs of Innocence<br>and Songs of Experience</i></a><br>by William Blake</h1> +<h2>#2 in our series by William Blake</h2></center> +<DIV align="justify"> +<p><br> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. +<p> +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. +<p> +Please read the <a href="#legal">“legal small print,”</a> and <a href="#footer">other information</a> about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. +<p> +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** +<p> +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** +<p> +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** +<p> +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’s Song</a><br> +<a href="#17">Infant Joy</a><br> +<a href="#18">A Dream</a><br> +<a href="#19">On Another’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’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’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> +‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’<br> +So I piped with merry cheer.<br> +‘Piper, pipe that song again.’<br> +So I piped: he wept to hear. +<p> +‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;<br> +Sing thy songs of happy cheer!’<br> +So I sung the same again,<br> +While he wept with joy to hear. +<p> +‘Piper, sit thee down and write<br> +In a book, that all may read.’<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’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’ innocent call,<br> +And he hears the ewes’ 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’ 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> +‘Such, such were the joys<br> +When we all—girls and boys—<br> +In our youth-time were seen<br> +On the echoing green.’ +<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’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’ll tell thee;<br> +Little lamb, I’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> +‘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> +‘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> +‘For, when our souls have learned the heat to bear,<br> +The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,<br> +Saying, “Come out from the grove, my love and care,<br> +And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.” ’ +<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’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear<br> +To lean in joy upon our Father’s knee;<br> +And then I’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 ‘Weep! weep! weep! weep!’<br> +So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep. +<p> +There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,<br> +That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved; so I said,<br> +‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head’s bare,<br> +You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’ +<p> +And so he was quiet, and that very night,<br> +As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—<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’d be a good boy,<br> +He’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> +‘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.’ +<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 ‘Ha ha he!’ +<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 ‘Ha ha he!’ +</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’er my lovely infant’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’er my happy child! +<p> +Sweet smiles, in the night<br> +Hover over my delight!<br> +Sweet smiles, mother’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’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> +’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’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’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’s ruddy eyes<br> +Shall flow with tears of gold:<br> +And pitying the tender cries,<br> +And walking round the fold:<br> +Saying: ‘Wrath by His meekness,<br> +And, by His health, sickness,<br> +Is driven away<br> +From our immortal day. +<p> +‘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’s river,<br> +My bright mane for ever<br> +Shall shine like the gold,<br> +As I guard o’er the fold.’ +</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’s mute!<br> +Birds delight,<br> +Day and night,<br> +Nightingale,<br> +In the dale,<br> +Lark in sky,—<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’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> +‘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.’ +<p> +‘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.’<br> +‘Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,<br> +And then go home to bed.’<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> +‘I have no name;<br> +I am but two days old.’<br> +What shall I call thee?<br> +‘I happy am,<br> +Joy is my name.’<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’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> +‘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.’ +<p> +Pitying, I dropped a tear:<br> +But I saw a glow-worm near,<br> +Who replied, ‘What wailing wight<br> +Calls the watchman of the night? +<p> +‘I am set to light the ground,<br> +While the beetle goes his round:<br> +Follow now the beetle’s hum;<br> +Little wanderer, hie thee home!’ +</td></tr></table> + +<hr width="150"><br> +<h3><a name="19">ON ANOTHER’S SORROW</a></h3> +<table cellpadding="8" cellspacing="8" summary="poems"> +<tr><td> +Can I see another’s woe,<br> +And not be in sorrow too?<br> +Can I see another’s grief,<br> +And not seek for kind relief? +<p> +Can I see a falling tear,<br> +And not feel my sorrow’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’s grief and care,<br> +Hear the woes that infants bear— +<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’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> +‘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> +‘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.’ +</td></tr></table> + +<hr width="150"><br> +<h3><a name="21">EARTH’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> +‘Prisoned on watery shore,<br> +Starry jealousy does keep my den<br> +Cold and hoar;<br> +Weeping o’er,<br> +I hear the father of the ancient men. +<p> +‘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> +‘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> +‘Break this heavy chain,<br> +That does freeze my bones around!<br> +Selfish, vain,<br> +Eternal bane,<br> +That free love with bondage bound.’ +</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> +‘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’s despair.’ +<p> +So sung a little clod of clay,<br> +Trodden with the cattle’s feet,<br> +But a pebble of the brook<br> +Warbled out these metres meet: +<p> +‘Love seeketh only Self to please,<br> +To bind another to its delight,<br> +Joys in another’s loss of ease,<br> +And builds a hell in heaven’s despite.’ +</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,—<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’er the sun does shine,<br> +And where’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’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’ song. +<p> +‘Sweet sleep, come to me,<br> +Underneath this tree;<br> +Do father, mother, weep?<br> +Where can Lyca sleep? +<p> +‘Lost in desert wild<br> +Is your little child.<br> +How can Lyca sleep<br> +If her mother weep? +<p> +‘If her heart does ache,<br> +Then let Lyca wake;<br> +If my mother sleep,<br> +Lyca shall not weep. +<p> +‘Frowning, frowning night,<br> +O’er this desert bright<br> +Let thy moon arise,<br> +While I close my eyes.’ +<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’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’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> +‘Follow me,’ he said;<br> +‘Weep not for the maid;<br> +In my palace deep,<br> +Lyca lies asleep.’ +<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’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! ‘weep! weep!’ in notes of woe!<br> +‘Where are thy father and mother? Say!’—<br> +‘They are both gone up to the church to pray. +<p> +‘Because I was happy upon the heath,<br> +And smiled among the winter’s snow,<br> +They clothed me in the clothes of death,<br> +And taught me to sing the notes of woe. +<p> +‘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.’ +</td></tr></table> + +<hr width="150"><br> +<h3><a name="27">NURSE’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’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! What can it mean?<br> +And that I was a maiden Queen<br> +Guarded by an Angel mild:<br> +Witless woe was ne’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’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, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’<br> +And I passed the sweet flower o’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’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’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 ‘Thou shalt not’ 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’d sing and we’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’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’s cry of fear,<br> +In every voice, in every ban,<br> +The mind-forged manacles I hear: +<p> +How the chimney-sweeper’s cry<br> +Every blackening church appals,<br> +And the hapless soldier’s sigh<br> +Runs in blood down palace-walls. +<p> +But most, through midnight streets I hear<br> +How the youthful harlot’s curse<br> +Blasts the new-born infant’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’s hands,<br> +Striving against my swaddling bands,<br> +Bound and weary, I thought best<br> +To sulk upon my mother’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,— +<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> +‘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> +‘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.’ +<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> +‘Lo, what a fiend is here!’ said he:<br> +‘One who sets reason up for judge<br> +Of our most holy mystery.’ +<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’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’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’er heaven’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> +‘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!’ +</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’er thy cheek, and o’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,—<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’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’s dismay,— +<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’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—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> +<br><DIV align="justify"> +<a name="footer">*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND EXPERIENCE ***</a> +<p> +This file should be named sinex10h.htm or sinex10h.zip<br> +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, sinex11h.htm<br> +VERSIONS based on separate sources get a new LETTER, sinex10a.htm +<p> 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