Poems of William Blake

Poems of William Blake
William Blake
and
THE BOOK of THEL
Piping down the valleys wild, 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 In a book, that all may read. So he vanish'd from my sight; And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.
How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he stays; He shall follow his sheep all the day, And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
For he hears the lambs' innocent call, And he hears the ewes' tender reply; He is watching while they are in peace, For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring; The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around To the bells' cheerful sound; While our sports shall be seen On the echoing Green.