CXXXI. WILLIAM BLAKE, 1757-1827. H SONG. WOW sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the Prince of Love beheld, He shewed me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; With sweet May dews my wings were wet, He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty. CXXXII. Μ' SONG. Y silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have. His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold; Whose heart is wintry cold? His breast is Love's all-worshipped tomb, Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat : CXXXIII TO THE MUSES. WHETHER on Ida's shady brow, W Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the sun, that now From ancient melody have ceased; Whether in heaven ye wander fair, Or the green corners of the earth, Or the blue regions of the air Where the melodious winds have birth; Whether on crystal rocks ye rove, Beneath the bosom of the sea, Wandering in many a coral grove; Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry; How have you left the ancient love The sound is forced, the notes are few. CXXXIV. IPING down the valleys wild, PIPING 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 sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. 'Piper, sit thee down and write And I plucked a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, Every child may joy to hear. CXXXV. THE TIGER. IGER, tiger, burning bright TIGER In the forest of the night, In what distant deeps or skies And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? When thy heart began to beat, What dread hand formed thy dread feet? What the hammer, what the chain, Knit thy strength and forged thy brain? Dared thy deadly terrors clasp? |