Thus did my mother say, and kissèd me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black, and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
O THOU with dewy locks, who lookest down
Through the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!
The hills tell each other, and the list'ning
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.
Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.
W. BLAKE.
58. TIGER! TIGER! BURNING BRIGHT
TIGER! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful sym-
metry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire ?
What the hand dare seize the
fire ?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the
chain ?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make
thee?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
W. BLAKE.
ON these white cliffs, that calm above the flood
Uplift their shadowy heads, and at their feet
Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat,
Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood;
And while the distant murmur met his ear,
And o'er the distant billows the still eve
Sailed slow, has thought of all his heart must leave
To-morrow; of the friends he loved most dear;
Of social scenes from which he wept to part.
But if, like me, he knew how fruitless all
The thoughts that would full fain the past recall;
Soon would he quell the risings of his heart,
And brave the wild winds and unhearing tide,
The world his country, and his God his guide.
62. IN THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY
IN the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked by the wood-side,
Whenas May was in his pride:
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Corydon.
Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love and she would not.
She said, Never man was true;
He said, None was false to you.
He said, He had loved her long;
She said, Love should have no
wrong.
Corydon would kiss her then ;
She said, Maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all;
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not love abuse,
Love, which had been long de-
luded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
And Phillida with garlands gay
Was made the Lady of the May.
N. BRETON.
63. FROM FAREWELL TO TOWN'
Now next, my gallant youths, farewell;
My lads that oft have cheered my heart!
My grief of mind no tongue can tell,
To think that I must from you part.
I now must leave you all, alas,
And live with some old lobcock ass !
And now, farewell, thou gallant lute,
With instruments of music's sounds:
Recorder, cittern, harp and flute,
And heavenly descants on sweet grounds;
I now must leave you all, indeed,
And make some music on a reed!
And now, farewell, each dainty dish,
With sundry sorts of sugared wine!
Farewell, I say, fine flesh and fish,
To please this dainty mouth of mine!
I now, alas, must leave all these,
And make good cheer with bread and cheese.
64. LOVE, DRINK, AND DEBT
I HAVE been in love, and in debt, and in drink,
This many and many a year,
And those are three plagues enough, any should think,
For one poor mortal to bear.
'Twas love made me fall into drink,
And drink made me run into debt,
And though I have struggled, and struggled, and strove,
I cannot get out of them yet.
There's nothing but money can cure me,
And rid me of all my pain!
'Twill pay all my debts,
And remove all my lets,
And my mistress, that cannot endure me,
Will love me, and love me again:
Then I'll fall to my loving and drinking amain!
65. LOVE UNACCOUNTABLE
'Tis not her birth, her friends, nor yet her treasure,
Nor do I covet her for sensual pleasure,
Nor for that old morality
Do I love her, 'cause she loves me.
Sure he that loves his lady 'cause she's fair,
Delights his eye, so loves himself, not her.
Something there is moves me to love, and I
Do know I love, but know not how, nor why.
66. NO COWARD SOUL IS MINE
No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life-that in me has rest,
As I-undying life-have power in Thee!
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of immortality.
With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in thee.
There is not room for Death
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou-THOU art Being and Breath,
And what THOU art may never be destroyed.
67. THE OLD STOIC
RICHES I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished with the morn:
And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!'
Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
"Tis all that I implore;
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.
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