The Complete Poems Read online

  Prays to the human form divine

  Love Mercy Pity Peace.

  And all must love the human form,

  In heathen, turk or jew.

  Where Mercy, Love & Pity dwell

  20 There God is dwelling too.

  HOLY THURSDAY

  Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean

  The children walking two & two in red & blue & green

  Grey headed beadles walkd before with wands as white as snow

  Till into the high dome of Pauls they like Thames waters flow

  O what a multitude they seemd these flowers of London town

  Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own

  The hum of multitudes was there but multitudes of lambs

  Thousands of little boys & girls raising their innocent hands

  Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song

  10 Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among

  Beneath them sit the aged men wise guardians of the poor

  Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door

  NIGHT

  The sun descending in the west

  The evening star does shine.

  The birds are silent in their nest,

  And I must seek for mine,

  The moon like a flower,

  In heavens high bower;

  With silent delight,

  Sits and smiles on the night.

  Farewell green fields and happy groves,

  10 Where flocks have took delight;

  Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves

  The feet of angels bright;

  Unseen they pour blessing,

  And joy without ceasing,

  On each bud and blossom,

  And each sleeping bosom.

  They look in every thoughtless nest,

  Where birds are coverd warm;

  They visit caves of every beast,

  20 To keep them all from harm;

  If they see any weeping,

  That should have been sleeping

  They pour sleep on their head

  And sit down by their bed.

  When wolves and tygers howl for prey

  They pitying stand and weep;

  Seeking to drive their thirst away,

  And keep them from the sheep.

  But if they rush dreadful;

  30 The angels most heedful,

  Recieve each mild spirit,

  New worlds to inherit.

  And there the lions ruddy eyes,

  Shall flow with tears of gold:

  And pitying the tender cries,

  And walking round the fold:

  Saying: wrath by his meekness

  And by his health, sickness,

  Is driven away,

  40 From our immortal day.

  And now beside thee bleating lamb,

  I can lie down and sleep;

  Or think on him who bore thy name,

  Grase after thee and weep.

  For wash’d in lifes river,

  My bright mane for ever.

  Shall shine like the gold.

  As I guard o’er the fold.

  SPRING

  Sound the Flute!

  Now it’s mute.

  Birds delight

  Day and Night.

  Nightingale

  In the dale

  Lark in Sky

  Merrily

  Merrily Merrily to welcome in the Year

  10 Little Boy

  Full of joy.

  Little Girl

  Sweet and small,

  Cock does crow

  So do you.

  Merry voice

  Infant noise

  Merrily Merrily to welcome in the Year

  Little Lamb

  20 Here I am,

  Come and lick

  My white neck.

  Let me pull

  Your soft Wool.

  Let me kiss

  Your soft face.

  Merrily Merrily we welcome in the Year

  NURSE’S SONG

  When the voices of children are heard on the green

  And laughing is heard on the hill,

  My heart is at rest within my breast

  And every thing else is still

  Then come home my children, the sun is gone down

  And the dews of night arise

  Come come leave off play, and let us away

  Till the morning appears in the skies

  No no let us play, for it is yet day

  10 And we cannot go to sleep

  Besides in the sky, the little birds fly

  And the hills are all covered with sheep

  Well well go & play till the light fades away

  And then go home to bed

  The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh’d

  And all the hills ecchoed

  INFANT JOY

  I have no name

  I am but two days old. –

  What shall I call thee?

  I happy am

  Joy is my name, –

  Sweet joy befall thee!

  Pretty joy!

  10 Sweet joy but two days old.

  Sweet joy I call thee:

  Thou dost smile.

  I sing the while

  Sweet joy befall thee.

  A DREAM

  Once a dream did weave a shade,

  O’er my Angel-guarded bed,

  That an Emmet lost it’s way

  Where on grass methought I lay.

  Troubled wilderd and folorn

  Dark benighted travel-worn,

  Over many a tangled spray

  All heart-broke I heard her say.

  O my children! do they cry

  10 Do they hear their father sigh.

  Now they look abroad to see,

  Now return and weep for me.

  Pitying I drop’d a tear:

  But I saw a glow-worm near:

  Who replied. What wailing wight

  Calls the watchman of the night.

  I am set to light the ground,

  While the beetle goes his round:

  Follow now the beetles hum,

  20 Little wanderer hie thee home.

  ON ANOTHERS SORROW

  Can I see anothers woe,

  And not be in sorrow too.

  Can I see anothers grief,

  And not seek for kind relief.

  Can I see a falling tear,

  And not feel my sorrows share,

  Can a father see his child,

  Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d.

  Can a mother sit and hear,

  10 An infant groan an infant fear –

  No no never can it be.

  Never never can it be.

  And can he who smiles on all

  Hear the wren with sorrows small,

  Hear the small birds grief & care

  Hear the woes that infants bear –

  And not sit beside the nest

  Pouring pity in their breast,

  And not sit the cradle near

  20 Weeping tear on infants tear.

  And not sit both night & day,

  Wiping all our tears away.

  O! no never can it be.

  Never never can it be.

  He doth give his joy to all.

  He becomes an infant small.

  He becomes a man of woe

  He doth feel the sorrow too.

  Think not, thou canst sigh a sigh,

  30 And thy maker is not by.

  Think not, thou canst weep a tear,

  And thy maker is not near.

  O! he gives to us his joy,

  That our grief he may destroy

  Till our grief is fled & gone

  He doth sit by us and moan

  Songs of Experience

  INTRODUCTION

  Hear the voice of the Bard!

  Who Present, Past, & Future sees

  Whose ears have heard,

&nbs
p; The Holy Word,

  That walk’d among the ancient trees.

  Calling the lapsed Soul

  And weeping in the evening dew:

  That might controll,

  The starry pole;

  10 And fallen fallen light renew!

  O Earth O Earth return!

  Arise from out the dewy grass;

  Night is worn,

  And the morn

  Rises from the slumberous mass.

  Turn away no more:

  Why wilt thou turn away

  The starry floor

  The watry shore

  20 Is giv’n thee till the break of day.

  EARTH’S ANSWER

  Earth rais’d up her head,

  From the darkness dread & drear.

  Her light fled:

  Stony dread!

  And her locks cover’d with grey despair.

  Prison’d on watry shore

  Starry Jealousy does keep my den

  Cold and hoar

  Weeping o’er

  10 I hear the Father of the ancient men

  Selfish father of men

  Cruel jealous selfish fear

  Can delight

  Chain’d in night

  The virgins of youth and morning bear.

  Does spring hide its joy

  When buds and blossoms grow?

  Does the sower?

  Sow by night?

  20 Or the plowman in darkness plow?

  Break this heavy chain,

  That does freeze my bones around

  Selfish! vain,

  Eternal bane!

  That free Love with bondage bound.

  THE CLOD & THE PEBBLE

  Love seeketh not Itself to please,

  Nor for itself hath any care;

  But for another gives its ease,

  And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.

  So sang a little Clod of Clay,

  Trodden with the cattles feet:

  But a Pebble of the brook,

  Warbled out these metres meet.

  Love seeketh only Self to please,

  10 To bind another to its delight;

  Joys in anothers loss of ease,

  And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

  HOLY THURSDAY

  Is this a holy thing to see,

  In a rich and fruitful land,

  Babes reduced to misery,

  Fed with cold and usurous hand?

  Is that trembling cry a song?

  Can it be a song of joy?

  And so many children poor?

  It is a land of poverty!

  And their sun does never shine.

  10 And their fields are bleak & bare.

  And their ways are fill’d with thorns.

  It is eternal winter there.

  For where-e’er the sun does shine,

  And where-e’er the rain does fall:

  Babe can never hunger there,

  Nor poverty the mind appall.

  THE LITTLE GIRL LOST

  In futurity

  I prophetic see,

  That the earth from sleep,

  (Grave the sentence deep)

  Shall arise and seek

  For her maker meek:

  And the desart wild

  Become a garden mild.

  In the southern clime,

  10 Where the summers prime,

  Never fades away;

  Lovely Lyca lay.

  Seven summers old

  Lovely Lyca told.

  She had wanderd long,

  Hearing wild birds song.

  Sweet sleep come to me

  Underneath this tree;

  Do father, mother weep. –

  20 ‘Where can Lyca sleep’.

  Lost in desart wild

  Is your little child.

  How can Lyca sleep,

  If her mother weep.

  If her heart does ake,

  Then let Lyca wake;

  If my mother sleep,

  Lyca shall not weep.

  Frowning frowning night,

  30 O’er this desart bright,

  Let thy moon arise,

  While I close my eyes.

  Sleeping Lyca lay;

  While the beasts of prey,

  Come from caverns deep,

  View’d the maid asleep

  The kingly lion stood

  And the virgin view’d,

  Then he gambold round

  40 O’er the hallowd ground:

  Leopards, tygers play,

  Round her as she lay;

  While the lion old,

  Bow’d his mane of gold.

  And her bosom lick,

  And upon her neck,

  From his eyes of flame,

  Ruby tears there came;

  While the lioness,

  50 Loos’d her slender dress,

  And naked they convey’d

  To caves the sleeping maid.

  THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND

  All the night in woe

  Lyca’s parents go:

  Over vallies deep,

  While the desarts weep.

  Tired and woe-begone,

  Hoarse with making moan:

  Arm in arm seven days,

  They trac’d the desart ways.

  Seven nights they sleep,

  10 Among shadows deep:

  And dream they see their child

  Starv’d in desart wild.

  Pale thro pathless ways

  The fancied image strays,

  Famish’d, weeping, weak

  With hollow piteous shriek

  Rising from unrest,

  The trembling woman prest,

  With feet of weary woe;

  20 She could no further go.

  In his arms he bore,

  Her arm’d with sorrow sore;

  Till before their way,

  A couching lion lay.

  Turning back was vain,

  Soon his heavy mane,

  Bore them to the ground;

  Then he stalk’d around,

  Smelling to his prey.

  30 But their fears allay,

  When he licks their hands;

  And silent by them stands.

  They look upon his eyes

  Fill’d with deep surprise:

  And wondering behold,

  A spirit arm’d in gold.

  On his head a crown

  On his shoulders down,

  Flow’d his golden hair.

  40 Gone was all their care.

  Follow me he said,

  Weep not for the maid;

  In my palace deep,

  Lyca lies asleep.

  Then they followed,

  Where the vision led:

  And saw their sleeping child,

  Among tygers wild.

  To this day they dwell

  50 In a lonely dell

  Nor fear the wolvish howl,

  Nor the lions growl.

  THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER

  A little black thing among the snow:

  Crying weep, weep. in notes of woe!

  Where are thy father & mother? say?

  They are both gone up to the church to pray.

  Because I was happy upon the heath.

  And smil’d among the winters snow:

  They clothed me in the clothes of death.

  And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

  And because I am happy. & dance & sing.

  10 They think they have done me no injury:

  And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King

  Who make up a heaven of our misery.

  NURSES SONG

  When the voices of children, are heard on the green

  And whisperings are in the dale:

  The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,

  My face turns green and pale.

  Then come home my children, the sun is gone down

  And the dews of night arise

  Your spring & your day, are wasted i
n play

  And your winter and night in disguise.

  THE SICK ROSE

  O Rose thou art sick.

  The invisible worm,

  That flies in the night

  In the howling storm:

  Has found out thy bed

  Of crimson joy:

  And his dark secret love

  Does thy life destroy.

  THE FLY

  Little Fly

  Thy summers play,

  My thoughtless hand

  Has brush’d away.

  Am not I

  A fly like thee?

  Or art not thou

  A man like me?

  For I dance

  10 And drink & sing;

  Till some blind hand

  Shall brush my wing.

  If thought is life

  And strength & breath;

  And the want

  Of thought is death;

  Then am I

  A happy fly,

  If I live,

  20 Or if I die.

  THE ANGEL

  I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?

  And that I was a maiden Queen:

  Guarded by an Angel mild;

  Witless woe, was ne’er beguil’d!

  And I wept both night and day

  And he wip’d my tears away

  And I wept both day and night

  And hid from him my hearts delight

  So he took his wings and fled:

  10 Then the morn blush’d rosy red:

  I dried my tears & armd my fears,

  With ten thousand shields and spears.

  Soon my Angel came again:

  I was arm’d, he came in vain:

  For the time of youth was fled

  And grey hairs were on my head.

  THE TYGER

  Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

  In the forests of the night:

  What immortal hand or eye,

  Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

  In what distant deeps or skies

  Burnt the fire of thine eyes!

  On what wings dare he aspire?

  What the hand, dare sieze the fire?

  And what shoulder, & what art,

  10 Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

  And when thy heart began to beat,

  What dread hand? & what dread feet?

  What the hammer? what the chain,

  In what furnace was thy brain?

  What the anvil? what dread grasp,

  Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

  When the stars threw down their spears

  And water’d heaven with their tears:

  Did he smile his work to see?

  20 Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

  Tyger, Tyger burning bright,

  In the forests of the night:

  What immortal hand or eye,

  Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

  MY PRETTY ROSE TREE

  A flower was offerd to me;

  Such a flower as May never bore.

  But I said I’ve a Pretty Rose-tree.

  And I passed the sweet flower o’er.

  Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree;

  To tend her by day and by night.

  But my Rose turned away with jealousy:

  And her thorns were my only delight.

  AH! SUN-FLOWER

  Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.