William Blake - The Greatest Works of William Blake (With Complete Original Illustrations)

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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 chear,

Piper pipe that song again—

So I piped, he wept to hear.

Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe

Sing thy songs of happy chear,

So I sung 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 Shepherds sweet lot,

From the morn to the evening he strays:

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 watchful 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 sky-lark and thrush,

The birds of the bush,

Sing louder around,

To the bells chearful sound.

While our sports shall be seen

On the Ecchoing Green.

Old John with white hair

Does laugh away care,

Sitting under the oak,

Among the old folk,

They laugh at our play,

And soon they all say.

Such such were the joys.

When we all girls & boys,

In our youth-time were seen,

On the Ecchoing Green.

Till the little ones weary

No more can be merry

The sun does descend,

And our sports have an end:

Round the laps of their mothers,

Many sisters and brothers,

Like birds in their nest,

Are ready for rest;

And sport no more seen,

On the darkening Green

.

Little Lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Gave thee life & bid thee feed.

By the stream & o’er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing wooly bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice!

Little Lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Little Lamb I’ll tell thee,

Little Lamb I’ll tell thee!

He is called by thy name,

For he calls himself a Lamb:

He is meek & he is mild,

He became a little child:

I a child & thou a lamb,

We are called by his name.

Little Lamb God bless thee.

Little Lamb God bless thee.

My mother bore me in the southern wild,

And I am black, but O! my soul is white;

White as an angel is the English child:

But I am black as if bereav’d of light.

My mother taught me underneath a tree

And sitting down before the heat of day,

She took me on her lap and kissed me,

And pointing to the east began to say.

Look on the rising sun: there God does live

And gives his light, and gives his heat away.

And flowers and trees and beasts and men recieve

Comfort in morning joy in the noon day.

And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love,

And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face

Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear

The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice.

Saying: come out from the grove my love & care,

And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.

Thus did my mother say and kissed 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:

Ill shade him from the heat till he can bear,

To lean in joy upon our fathers knee.

And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,

And be like him and he will then love me.

Merry Merry Sparrow

Under leaves so green

A happy Blossom

Sees you swift as arrow

Seek your cradle narrow

Near my Bosom.

Pretty Pretty Robin

Under leaves so green

A happy Blossom

Hears you sobbing sobbing

Pretty Pretty Robin

Near my Bosom.

When my mother died I was very young,

And my father sold me while yet my tongue,

Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep.

So your Chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head

That curl’d like a lambs back, was shav’d, so I said.

Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head’s bare,

You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.

And so he was quiet, & that very night,

As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight,

That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned & Jack

Were all of them lockd up in coffins of black,

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,

And he open’d the coffins & set them all free.

Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run

And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,

They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.

And the Angel told Tom if he’d be a good boy,

He’d have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark

And got with our bags & our brushes to work.

Tho’ the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm,

So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

Father, father, where are you going

O do not walk so fast.

Speak father, speak to your little boy

Or else I shall be lost,

The night was dark no father was there

The child was wet with dew,

The mire was deep, & the child did weep

And away the vapour flew.

The little boy lost in the lonely fen,

Led by the wand’ring light,

Began to cry, but God ever nigh,

Appeard like his father in white.

He kissed the child & by the hand led

And to his mother brought,

Who in sorrow pale, thro’ the lonely dale

Her little boy weeping sought.

When the green woods laugh, with the voice of joy

And the dimpling stream runs laughing by,

When the air does laugh with our merry wit,

And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.

When the meadows laugh with lively green

And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,

When Mary and Susan and Emily,

With their sweet round mouths sing Ha, Ha, He.

When the painted birds laugh in the shade

Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread

Come live & be merry and join with me,

To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He.

Sweet dreams form a shade,

O’er my lovely infants head.

Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,

By happy silent moony beams.

Sweet sleep with soft down,

Weave thy brows an infant crown.

Sweet sleep Angel mild,

Hover o’er my happy child.

Sweet smiles in the night,

Hover over my delight.

Sweet smiles Mothers smiles

All the livelong night beguiles.

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,

Chase not slumber from thy eyes.

Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,

All the dovelike moans beguiles.