The Greatest Works of William Blake (With Complete Original Illustrations). William Blake

The Greatest Works of William Blake (With Complete Original Illustrations) - William  Blake


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       Table of Contents

      

       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 chear,

      Piper pipe that song again—

      So I piped, he wept to hear.

      Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe

      Sing thy songs of happy chear,

      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 vanish’d from my sight.

      And I pluck’d a hollow reed.

      And I made a rural pen,

      And I stain’d the water clear,

      And I wrote my happy songs

      Every child may joy to hear

      The Shepherd

      How sweet is the Shepherds 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 Ecchoing Green

      The Sun does arise,

      And make happy the skies.

      The merry bells ring

      To welcome the Spring.

      The sky-lark and thrush,

      The birds of the bush,

      Sing louder around,

      To the bells chearful sound.

      While our sports shall be seen

      On the Ecchoing 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 & boys,

      In our youth-time were seen,

      On the Ecchoing 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

      Dost thou know who made thee

      Gave thee life & bid thee feed.

      By the stream & o’er the mead;

      Gave thee clothing of delight,

      Softest


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