Songs of Innocence and Experience. (1794)
by William Blake.
Songs of Innocence
Piping down the valleys untamed
Piping music of nice glee
On the cloud I could see a child
And he having a laugh said to me personally:
Water pipe a song about a Lamb:
So I piped with cheerful chear.
Piper, pipe that song again
Thus i piped: this individual wept to listen to.
Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe
Sing thy tracks of happy chear:
And so i sung a similar again
While he wept with joy to hear.
Piper, take a seat thee straight down and publish
In a book that all may possibly read
So he vanishd via my look
And I pluckd a empty reed
And I manufactured a countryside pen
And I staind the clear
And i also wrote my own happy tracks
Every kid may happiness to hear.
Just how sweet is the Shepherds fairly sweet lot!
In the morn for the evening this individual strays
He shall adhere to his lamb all the working day
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
For this individual hears the lambs harmless call
And he listens to the ewes tender answer.
He is careful while they may be in serenity
For they understand when their very own Shepherd can be nigh.
The Ecchoing Green
The Sun does come up
And help to make happy the skies
The merry alarms ring
To welcome the Spring:
The skylark and thrush
The birds of the bush
Sing louder around
To the bells chearful audio
While our sports will probably be seen
Around the Ecchoing Green.
Old John with white locks
Does laugh away proper care
Sitting beneath the oak
Among the old folk.
They chuckle at our play
And soon they all say:
This sort of, such had been the joys
Whenever we all ladies, boys
In our youth-time were seen
Within the Ecchoing Green
Right up until the little types weary
No longer can be cheerful
The sun does descend
And our sporting activities have an end:
Round the univers of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers
Like wild birds in their nesting
Are ready for rest:
And sport forget about seen
On the darkening Green.
Little Lamb, who produced thee?
Dost thou find out who manufactured thee?
Offered thee life, bid thee feed
By the stream, oer the mead:
Gave thee clothing of enjoyment
Softest clothing, woolly, dazzling:
Gave the such a young voice
Producing all the défilé rejoice:
Little Lamb, who made the
Dost thou know who made thee?
Small Lamb, Unwell tell thee
Little Lamb, Ill tell thee:
He can called by simply thy brand
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek & he is mild
He became a bit child:
I actually a child & thou a lamb
We are called by simply his name:
Small Lamb our god bless thee
Little Lamb god bless thee!
The Little Dark-colored Boy
My mother lose interest me in the southern outrageous
And I are black, although O! my own soul can be white
White colored as a great angel is the English child
But We am dark, as if bereavd of light.
My mom taught me personally underneath a tree
And sitting down prior to heat of day
Your woman took me on her behalf lap and kissed me
And pointing to the east began to say:
Look on the increasing sun: generally there God does live
And share his mild, and gives his heat away:
And plants and trees and beasts and guys receive
Peace of mind in morning, happiness in the midday day.
And we happen to be put on globe a little space
That we may learn to endure the beams of love:
And these black bodies and this sunburnt confront
Is nevertheless a cloud, and such as a shady grove:
To get when each of our souls include learnd the heat to bear
The cloud will certainly vanish, we need to hear his voice
Declaring: Come out through the grove, my love & care
And rounded my glowing tent like lambs delight.
Thus did my own mother claim and kissed me:
And so I say to little English language boy
While i from grayscale he by white cloud free
And round the camping tent of Goodness like lamb we joy
Ill shade him from the temperature, till they can bear
To lean in joy after our fathers knee:
Then Ill stand and cerebrovascular accident his silver hair
And be like him and he can then appreciate me.
Cheerful Merry Sparrow
Under leaves so green
A happy Blossom
Sees you swift because arrow
Look for your holder narrow
Near my Bosom.
Pretty Quite Robin
Beneath leaves thus green
A cheerful Blossom
Listens to you sobbing sobbing
Quite Pretty Robin
Near my personal Bosom.
Once my mother died I was very young
And my father sold myself while however my tongue
Could hardly cry weep weep! leak weep!
So that your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
There is little Ben Dacre, who have cried the moment his brain
That curly like a lambs back, was shavd, so