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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      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 the voices of children are heard on the green

      And laughing is heard on the hill,

      My heart is at rest within my breast

      And every thing 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 coverd with sheep

      Well well go & play till the light fades away

      And then go home to bed

      The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh’d

      And all the hills ecchoed

      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 it’s way

      Where on grass methought I lay.

      Troubled wilderd and folorn

      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 drop’d 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 beetles hum,

      Little wanderer hie thee home.

      On Anothers Sorrow

      Can I see anothers woe,

      And not be in sorrow too.

      Can I see anothers grief,

      And not seek for kind relief?

      Can I see a falling tear,

      And not feel my sorrows share,

      Can a father see his child,

      Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d.

      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 birds grief & 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 infants tear.

      And not sit both night & 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 & gone

      He doth sit by us and moan

       SONGS of EXPERIENCE

      Introduction

      Hear the voice of the Bard!

      Who Present, Past, & Future sees

      Whose ears have heard,

      The Holy Word,

      That walk’d among the ancient trees.

      Calling the lapsed Soul

      And weeping in the evening dew:

      That might controll,

      The starry pole;

      And fallen fallen light renew!

      O


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