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Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there;
Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. 1796.
How sweet I roamed from field to field,
He showed me lilies for my hair,
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
TO "SONGS OF INNOCENCE"
Piping down the valleys wild,
“Pipe a song about a lamb!"
So I piped with merry cheer. “Piper, pipe that song again l”
So I piped: he wept to hear.
THE ECHOING GREEN
HOLY THURSDAY ’T was on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, The children walking two and two, in red and blue and
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as
snow; Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames' waters
Oh what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London
Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of
song, Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among. 10 Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor; Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
THE BOOK OF THEL
The daughters of the seraphim led round their sunny flocks,-
15 Answered the lovely maid, and said: “I am a watery weed, And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales; So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head. Yet I am visited from heaven; and He That smiles on all Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads His hand, 20 Saying, 'Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily-flower, Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks; For thou shalt be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna, Till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the
springs, To flourish in eternal vales.' Then why should Thel complain? 25 Why should the mistress of the vales of Har utter a sigh ?” She ceased, and smiled in tears, then sat down in her silver
shrine. Thel answered: “O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley, Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'ertired, Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb; he smells thy milky garments,
30 He crops thy flowers, while thou sittest smiling in his face, Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints. Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume, Which thou dost scatter, on every little blade of grass that