天真的预示
一颗沙里看出一个世界，
一朵野花里一座天堂，
把无限放在你的手掌上，
永恒在一刹那里收藏。
梁宗岱 译
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
苍蝇
小苍蝇，
你夏天的游戏
给我的手
无心地抹去。
我岂不象你
是一只苍蝇？
你岂不象我
是一个人？
因为我跳舞，
又饮又唱，
直到一只盲手
抹掉我的翅膀。
如果思想是生命
呼吸和力量，
思想的缺乏
便等于死亡，
那么我就是
一只快活的苍蝇，
无论是死，
无论是生。
梁宗岱 译
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
扫烟囱孩子（一）
我母亲死的时候，我还小得很，
我父亲把我拿出来卖给了别人，
我当时还不大喊得清“扫呀，扫，”
我就扫你们烟囱，裹煤屑睡觉。
有个小托姆，头发卷得像小羊头，
剃光的时候，哭得好伤心，好难受，
我就说：“小托姆，不要紧，光了脑袋，
大起来煤屑就不会糟蹋你白头发。”
他就安安静静了，当天夜里，
托姆睡着了，事情就来得稀奇，
他看见千千万万的扫烟囱小孩
阿猫阿狗全都给锁进了黑棺材。
后来来了个天使，拿了把金钥匙，
开棺材放出了孩子们（真是好天使！）
他们就边跳，边笑，边跑过草坪，
到河里洗了澡，太阳里晒得亮晶晶。
光光的，白白的，把袋子都抛个一地，
他们就升上了云端，在风里游戏；
“只要你做个好孩子，”天使对托姆说，
“上帝会做你的父亲，你永远快乐。”
托姆就醒了；屋子里黑咕隆咚，
我们就起来拿袋子、扫帚去做工。
大清早尽管冷，托姆的心里可温暖；
这叫做：各尽本分，就不怕灾难。
选自《天真之歌》
（卞之琳译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
扫烟囱孩子（二）
风雪里一个满身乌黑的小东西
“扫呀，扫呀”在那里哭哭啼啼！
“你的爹娘上哪儿去了，你讲讲？”
“他们呀都去祷告了，上了教堂。
“因为我原先在野地里欢欢喜喜，
我在冬天的雪地里也总是笑嘻嘻，
他们就把我拿晦气的黑衣裳一罩，
他们还教我唱起了悲伤的曲调。
“因为我显得快活，还唱歌，还跳舞，
他们就以为并没有把我害苦，
就跑去赞美了上帝、教士和国王，
夸他们拿我们苦难造成了天堂。”
选自《经验之歌》
（卞之琳译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
老虎
老虎！老虎！黑夜的森林中
燃烧着的煌煌的火光，
是怎样的神手或天眼
造出了你这样的威武堂堂？
你炯炯的两眼中的火
燃烧在多远的天空或深渊？
他乘着怎样的翅膀搏击？
用怎样的手夺来火焰？
又是怎样的膂力，怎样的技巧，
把你的心脏的筋肉捏成？
当你的心脏开始搏动时，
使用怎样猛的手腕和脚胫？
是怎样的槌？怎样的链子？
在怎样的熔炉中炼成你的脑筋？
是怎样的铁砧？怎样的铁臂
敢于捉着这可怖的凶神？
群星投下了他们的投枪。
用它们的眼泪润湿了穹苍，
他是否微笑着欣赏他的作品？
他创造了你，也创造了羔羊？
老虎！老虎！黑夜的森林中
燃烧着的煌煌的火光，
是怎样的神手或天眼
造出了你这样的威武堂堂？
（郭沫若译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
摇篮曲
睡吧，睡吧，美丽的宝贝．
愿你在夜的欢乐中安睡；
睡吧，睡吧；当你睡时
小小的悲哀会坐着哭泣。
可爱的宝贝，在你的脸上
我可以看见柔弱的欲望；
隐秘的欢乐和隐秘的微笑，
可爱的婴儿的小小的乖巧。
当我抚摸你稚嫩的肢体，
微笑像早晨偷偷地侵入，
爬上你的脸和你的胸膛，
那里安睡着你小小的心脏。
呵，狡计乖巧就潜伏在
你这小小的安睡的心中！
当你小小的心脏开始苏醒
从你的脸上从你的眼睛，
会突然爆发可怕的闪电，
落上附近青春的禾捆。
婴儿的微笑和婴儿的狡计
欺骗着平安的天堂和人世。
（张德明译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
伦敦
我走过每条独占的街道，
徘徊在独占的泰晤士河边，
我看见每个过往的行人
有一张衰弱、痛苦的脸。
每个人的每升呼喊，
每个婴孩害怕的号叫，
每句话，每条禁令，
都响着心灵铸成的镣铐。
多少扫烟囱孩子的喊叫
震惊了一座座熏黑的教堂，
不幸兵士的长叹
化成鲜血流下了宫墙。
最怕是深夜的街头
又听年轻妓女的诅咒！
它骇注了初生儿的眼泪，
又用瘟疫摧残了婚礼丧车。
（王佐良译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
沙子
嘲笑吧，嘲笑吧，伏尔泰，卢梭，
嘲笑吧，嘲笑吧，但一切徒劳，
你们把沙子对风扔去，
风又把沙子吹回。
每粒沙都成了宝石，
反映着神圣的光，
吹回的沙子迷住了嘲笑的眼，
却照亮了以色列的道路。
德谟克利特的原子，
牛顿的光粒子，
都是红海岸边的沙子，
那里闪耀着以色列的帐篷。
（王佐良译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
羔羊
小羊羔谁创造了你
你可知道谁创造了你
给你生命，哺育着你
在溪流旁，在青草地；
给你穿上好看的衣裳，
最软的衣裳毛茸茸多漂亮；
给你这样温柔的声音，
让所有的山谷都开心；
小羔羊谁创造了你
你可知道谁创造了你；
小羔羊我要告诉你，
小羔羊我要告诉你；
他的名字跟你的一样，
他也称他自己是羔羊；
他又温顺又和蔼，
他变成了一个小小孩，
我是个小孩你是羔羊
咱俩的名字跟他一样。
小羔羊上帝保佑你。
小羔羊上帝保佑你。
（杨苡译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
啊，向日葵
啊，向日葵！怀着对时间的厌倦
整天数着太阳的脚步．
它寻求甜蜜而金色的天边——
倦旅的旅途在那儿结束；
那儿，少年因渴望而憔悴早殇，
苍白的处女盖着雪的尸布，
都从他们坟中起来向往——
向着我的向日葵要去的国度。
（飞白译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
婴儿的悲哀
我的母亲呻吟，我的父亲流泪——
我一头跳进这危险的世界，
赤身裸体，无依无靠，
就像云中的恶魔大呼大叫。
挣扎在我父亲的手掌中，
竭力想摆脱襁褓的束缚，
我又累又乏，只好乖乖地
躺在母亲的怀中生闷气。
当我发觉发怒是徒劳，
生闷气什么也没得到，
于是耍出许多诡计圈套
我开始安静而现出微笑。
我安静地过了一天又一天
直到踏上大地去流浪；
我微笑着过了一晚又一晚
只是为了能讨人喜欢。
于是藤蔓上垂下串串葡萄
在我眼前煜煜闪耀，
还有许多可爱的花儿
在我周围竞相开放。
然后我父亲手拿圣书，
露出一副圣者的面目，
在我头顶上念起诅咒，
把我绑在桃金娘树荫下。
白天他像一位圣人
躺倒在葡萄藤下；
夜晚他像一条毒蛇
缠住我漂亮的花朵。
于是我打他，他的血痕
玷污了我的桃金娘树根；
但如今青春岁月已经飞走
白发早已爬上我的额头。
（张德明译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
病玫瑰
噢玫瑰，你病了！
那无形的飞虫
乘着黑夜飞来了
在风暴呼号中。
找到了你的床
钻进红色的欢欣；
他的黑暗而隐秘的爱
毁了你的生命。
（张德明译）
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
由理生之书（节选）
第一章
1．瞧哪，一个恐怖的阴影升起
在永恒中！无人知之，不会生育，
自我封闭，排斥一切。什么恶魔
造成了这令人讨厌的虚空，
这使灵魂战栗的虚空？有人说，
“它是由理生”。但这黑色的强力
隐藏在无人知道、抽象沉思的神秘中。
2．年复一年日复一日他在那
无人窥见，无人知道的九重黑暗中，
逐段逐段地划分着，丈量着空间。
在他那被黑色的狂风掀裂的
荒凉的山岗上，变化逐渐出现。
3．因为他投入了一场场可怕的战斗，
与无数从他放弃的荒野中生长出来的
种种野兽，鸟、鱼、毒蛇
以及火、风、雾、云的元素
在暗中争强斗胜。
4. 黑暗旋转在无声的行动中
隐藏在痛苦的情感里，
一种无人知道的可怕的行动，
一个自我沉思的阴影，
从事着巨大的劳动。
5．但是永恒的神祗望着他的浩瀚的森林。
年复一年他躺着，封闭着，无人无道，
在深渊中沉思默想，避开一切
令人惊呆的讨厌的混沌。
6．黑色的由理生准备着他的
冷酷而恐怖的沉默；他的数万个雷霆
在幽暗中沿着这可怕的世界
排列着摆开阵势，隆隆滚动的车轮声
如大海涨起怒潮，回荡在他的云中，
他的积雪的山岭，他的落满冰雹的
山岗上；令人恐怖的吼声
就像秋天的雷霆，当乌云在收获物上
爆裂出火焰而发出的回响。
第二章
1．地球还不存在，也没有互相吸引的天体。
只有永恒的意志时而扩张
时而收缩他的全部灵活的感官。
死亡还不存在，只有永恒的生命跃动。
2．一声霹雳！震醒了天庭，
巨大的血云滚动在
由理生昏暗的岩石周围，
这无限中的孤独者就这样命名。
3．这霹雳撕人心肺，于是永恒的无数化身集合
在萧瑟的荒原周围，
此刻荒原充满了乌云，黑暗和水
流注着，奔突着，吐出
清晰的话语，爆裂在
他的山顶上滚动的雷霆中：
4．“从那黑暗孤独的深渊中；从
我的神圣的永恒的住所中，
隐藏着，留下我为未来的日子
准备的严厉的忠告，
我已经寻求过一种没有痛苦的欢乐，
一种没有变动的稳固。
为何你们将死去，噢永恒的神祗？
为何你们将住在水不熄灭的火焰里？
5.“首先，我与火焰作斗争，将它熄灭
在内部，在一个幽深的世界之内——
一个无限的虚空，狂暴，黑暗而深沉，
那里一无所有，是自然的宽敞子宫。
我独自一个．只有我，自我平衡着
伸向这虚空，无情的风吹着。
但又凝固起来，如急流般
它们下落复下落；我竭尽全力推拒
这些巨大的波浪，站在水波之上，
一个坚固的障碍物构成的浩瀚世界。
6．“我独自一个在这里，在金属的书上，
写下了智慧的奥秘，
深深沉思的奥秘
凭借与孕育罪恶的可怕的魔鬼们
进行的一场场可怕的斗争与冲突，
这些魔鬼居住在万物胸中——
灵魂的七种死罪。
7．“瞧哪！我揭示了我的黑暗，
我用强有力的手将这本永恒的铜书
放到这岩石上。它是我在孤独中写成。
8．“我制定了和平，爱，团结的法律，
怜悯，宽恕，同情的法律。
让每种法律适得其所，
选择它的古老的无限的住所，
只允许一种命令，一种欢乐，一种欲望，
一种诅咒，一种重量，一种尺度，
一个国王，一个上帝，一种法律。”
第三章
1．声音沉寂了；它们看到他的苍白的面容
从黑暗中显现，他松开了手
搁在永恒岩石上的铜书落下。
暴怒紧紧攫住了这强者，
2．狂暴，愤怒．强烈的愤慨——
在火，血和胆汁的大瀑布中，
在硫磺烟雾的旋风
和无数巨大的能量的形式中；
所有灵魂中的七种死罪出现
在活生生的创造中，
永恒的愤怒的火焰中。
3．石破天惊，黑暗降临，雷声轰鸣，
一声可怕的崩裂，
撕裂了永恒，
泥石俱流分崩离析
周围所有的山脉
轰然崩裂，推毁，倒塌——
留下一大堆生命的残片废墟，
高悬在蹙额的悬崖上，而一切
都在一个深不可测的虚空的大洋间。
4. 咆哮的火焰奔腾在天庭之上
奔腾在旋风和血液的瀑布中，
奔腾在由理生的黑暗的荒原上；
火焰通过虚空向四面八方流注
流注在由理生自生的军队身上。
5．但是火中没有光；一切都笼罩在
永恒的愤怒之火带来的黑暗中。
6．在这狂野的扑不灭的火焰中
他左冲右突企图藏身到
荒野和岩石中，但是徒然；集合起他的军队
他竭尽全力在山脉小丘间挖掘；
带着痛苦的嚎叫和疯狂的暴怒，
他不断地将它们聚集起来——
久久地在燃烧的火焰中劳作，
直到在绝望和死亡的阴影中
苍白，变老，打破了永生的界限。
7．于是他制造了一个屋顶，巨大，坚固
围住四周，就像一个子宫；
那里千万条河流在血管中奔流
涌下山岗来冷却
跳动在永恒的神祉之外的永恒之火；
而永恒的儿子们站在无限的海岸上
眺望，看到它像一个黑球
像一颗剧烈跳动的人的心脏，
由理生的浩瀚的世界出现。
8．而罗斯在由理生的黑球周围
为永恒的神祉守望着，以限制
这种朦胧孤独的分离；
永恒站在遥远的彼方，
就像星辰远离地球。
9．罗斯在这黑色的魔鬼周围哭泣嚎叫
诅咒着他的命运；因为在极度痛苦中
由理生从他的身体中分离出去，
而他脚下是深不可测的虚空
他居住的地方是炽烈的火焰。
10．但由理生从永恒中分离出来，
就堕入死一般的无机的睡眠之中。
11. 永恒的神祉说：“这是什么？死亡？
由理生是一块泥土。”
12．罗斯在可怕的昏迷中嚎叫，
呻吟．磨牙，呻吟，
直到那分离的部分愈合。
13. 但是由理生分离的伤口没有愈合。
他冷酷，没有面貌．肉体或泥土，
随着可怕的变化而裂开，
躺在无梦的夜晚。
14．直到罗斯煽起了他的火焰，
把他从无形无限的死亡中惊醒。
（张德明译） 本诗选自《天真之歌》。
Spring(春天)
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.
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,
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.
把笛子吹起！
现在它无声无息。
白天夜晚
鸟儿们喜欢。
有一只夜莺
在山谷深深，
天上的云雀，
满心喜悦，
欢天喜地，迎接新年到。
小小的男孩
无比欢快。
小小的女孩
玲珑可爱。
公鸡喔喔叫，
你也叫声高。
愉快的嗓音，
婴儿的闹声，
欢天喜地，迎接新年到。
小小的羊崽，
这里有我在，
走过来舔舐
我白白的脖子。
你的毛柔软，
让我牵一牵。
你的脸娇嫩，
让我吻一吻。
欢天喜地，我们迎接新年到。
春天来了，万物复苏。这表现在动物的活动上：鸟儿欢腾，公鸡鸣叫，云雀在天上翻飞，夜莺在山谷间歌唱；也表现在孩子们的活动上：欢蹦乱跳，笑语喧哗，跟小动物一块儿玩耍。
这首诗的三节像三个变焦电影镜头：由远而近依次是山谷树林、村庄农舍，然后聚焦在一个与羊羔相戏的儿童身上。意象鲜明、具体、生动，趣味盎然。而诗以儿童的口吻写出，反映了孩子们对春天的感受。诗行由片语和短句组成，注意押韵和反复，几近童谣，轻松自然，琅琅上口，读来颇有春天气息扑面而来的新鲜
Auguries of Innocenceby
William Blake
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus'd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear.
A Skylark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing.
The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every Wolf's & Lion's howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer, wand'ring here & there,
Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife
And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that won't believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belov'd by Men.
He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spider's enmity.
He who torments the Chafer's sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
The Caterpillar on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat,
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artist's Jealousy.
The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags
Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy & Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro' the World we safely go.
Joy & Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than swaddling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, & born were hands,
Every Farmer Understands.
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity.
This is caught by Females bright
And return'd to its own delight.
The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death.
The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,
Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun,
Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.
The poor Man's Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore.
One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands
Shall buy & sell the Miser's lands:
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole Nation sell & buy.
He who mocks the Infant's Faith
Shall be mock'd in Age & Death.
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the Infant's faith
Triumph's over Hell & Death.
The Child's Toys & the Old Man's Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.
The Questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to Reply.
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like the Armour's iron brace.
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you Please.
If the Sun & Moon should doubt
They'd immediately Go out.
To be in a Passion you Good may do,
But no Good if a Passion is in you.
The Whore & Gambler, by the State
Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
The Harlot's cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet.
The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse,
Dance before dead England's Hearse.
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn & every Night
Some are Born to sweet Delight.
Some are Born to sweet Delight,
Some are born to Endless Night.
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro' the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night,
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day.
这首诗前四句有多种译法
一颗沙里看出一个世界，
一朵野花里一座天堂，
把无限放在你的手掌上，
永恒在一刹那里收藏。
——梁宗岱 译
在一颗沙粒中见一个世界，
在一朵鲜花中见一片天空，
在你的掌心里把握无限，
在一个钟点里把握无穷。
——张炽恒 译
从一粒沙看世界，
从一朵花看天堂，
把永恒纳进一个时辰，
把无限握在自己手心。
——王佐良 译
一花一世界，一沙一天国，
君掌盛无边，刹那含永劫。
——宗白华 译
一沙一世界，一花一天堂。
无限掌中置，刹那成永恒。
——徐志摩 译
现在大多用下面的译法
一沙一世界，
一花一天堂。
双手握无限，
刹那是永恒。
一沙一世界，
一花一天堂，
一树一菩提，
一叶一如来。
天真的预言，
参悟千年的偈语。 INTRODUCTION
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.
THE SHEPHERD
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 ECHOING GREEN
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.
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 and boys --
In our youth-time were seen
On the echoing 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.
THE LAMB
Little Lamb, who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, 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, and He is mild,
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved 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, pointed 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 receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
"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 sunburnt 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 and 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
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.
THE BLOSSOM
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.
THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
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, and in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved; 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, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! --
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins, and let them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then naked and 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, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:
So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
THE LITTLE BOY LOST
"Father, father, where are you going?
Oh 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, and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.
THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wandering light,
Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
Appeared like his father, in white.
He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
The little boy weeping sought.
LAUGHING SONG
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, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha, ha, he!"
A SONG
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O'er my lovely infant's 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, mother's smile,
All the livelong night beguile.
Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
All the dovelike moans beguile.
Sleep, sleep, happy child!
All creation slept and smiled.
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee doth mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace;
Sweet babe, once like thee
Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:
Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee!
Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
Who became an infant small;
Infant smiles are his own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
DIVINE IMAGE
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God our Father dear;
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is man, his child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart
Pity, a human face;
And Love, the human form divine;
And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
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, and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.
HOLY THURSDAY
'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
Came children walking two and two, in read, and blue, and green:
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.
Oh what a multitude they seemed, 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 and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wild they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
Beneath them sit the aged man, 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 heaven's high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
Where flocks have ta'en delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
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 covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
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 tigers 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,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion's 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,
Are driven away
From our immortal day.
"And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life's 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!
Bird's delight,
Day and night,
Nightingale,
In the dale,
Lark in sky,--
Merrily,
Merrily merrily, to welcome in the year.
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,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, merrily, to 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 everything 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,
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 and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed."
The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
And all the hills echoed.
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!
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 its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:
"Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me."
Pitying, I dropped 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 beetle's hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!"
ON ANOTHER'S SORROW
Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear
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 bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear --
And not sit beside the next,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear?
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh 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,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not year.
Oh He gives to us his joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled an gone
He doth sit by us and moan. INTRODUCTION
Hear the voice of the Bard,
Who present, past, and future, sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walked among the ancient tree;
Calling the lapsed soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might control
The starry pole,
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 slumbrous mass.
"Turn away no more;
Why wilt thou turn away?
The starry floor,
The watery shore,
Are given thee till the break of day."
EARTH'S ANSWER
Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.
"Prisoned on watery shore,
Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;
Weeping o'er,
I hear the father of the ancient men.
"Selfish father of men!
Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
Can delight,
Chained 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,
Or the plowman in darkness plough?
"Break this heavy chain,
That does freeze my bones around!
Selfish, vain,
Eternal bane,
That free love with bondage bound."
THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE
"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives it ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair."
So sang a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
"Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's 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 son does never shine,
And their fields are bleak and bare,
And their ways are filled with thorns:
It is eternal winter there.
For where'er the sun does shine,
And where'er the rain does fall,
Babes should 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 desert wild
Become a garden mild.
In the southern clime,
Where the summer's prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.
Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told.
She had wandered long,
Hearing wild birds' song.
"Sweet sleep, come to me
Underneath this tree;
Do father, mother, weep?
Where can Lyca sleep?
"Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep
If her mother weep?
"If her heart does ache,
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep.
"Frowning, frowning night,
O'er this desert bright
Let thy moon arise,
While I close my eyes."
Sleeping Lyca lay
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.
The kingly lion stood,
And the virgin viewed:
Then he gambolled round
O'er the hallowed ground.
Leopards, tigers, play
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old
Bowed his mane of gold,
And her breast did lick
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came;
While the lioness
Loosed her slender dress,
And naked they conveyed
To caves the sleeping maid.
THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND
All the night in woe
Lyca's parents go
Over valleys deep,
While the deserts weep.
Tired and woe-begone,
Hoarse with making moan,
Arm in arm, seven days
They traced the desert ways.
Seven nights they sleep
Among shadows deep,
And dream they see their child
Starved in desert wild.
Pale through pathless ways
The fancied image strays,
Famished, weeping, weak,
With hollow piteous shriek.
Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman pressed
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.
In his arms he bore
Her, armed 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 stalked around,
Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.
They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.
On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
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 tigers wild.
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion's growl.
THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER
A little black thing in the snow,
Crying "weep! weep!" in notes of woe!
"Where are thy father and mother? Say!"--
"They are both gone up to the church to pray.
"Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smiled among the winter's snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
"And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his priest and king,
Who make up a heaven of our misery."
NURSE'S SONG
When 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 and your day are wasted in 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 summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
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 beguiled!
And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.
So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten-thousand shields and spears.
Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, 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 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 grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
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 offered 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 SUNFLOWER
Ah Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
THE LILY
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
THE GARDEN OF LOVE
I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.
Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
THE LITTLE VAGABOND
Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
The poor parsons with wind like a blown bladder swell.
But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We'd sing and we'd pray all the livelong day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as he,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
LONDON
I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appalls,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.
THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody poor,
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
And mutual fear brings Peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with his holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And the caterpillar and fly
Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The gods of the earth and sea
Sought through nature to find this tree,
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the human Brain.
INFANT SORROW
My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father's hands,
Striving against my swaddling-bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.
A POISON TREE
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
and he knew that it was mine, --
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
A LITTLE BOY LOST
"Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
"And, father, how can I love you
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door."
The Priest sat by and heard the child;
In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
He led him by his little coat,
And all admired the priestly care.
And standing on the altar high,
"Lo, what a fiend is here!" said he:
"One who sets reason up for judge
Of our most holy mystery."
The weeping child could not be heard,
The weeping parents wept in vain:
They stripped him to his little shirt,
And bound him in an iron chain,
And burned him in a holy place
Where many had been burned before;
The weeping parents wept in vain.
Are such thing done on Albion's shore?
A LITTLE GIRL LOST
Children of the future age,
Reading this indignant page,
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
In the age of gold,
Free from winter's cold,
Youth and maiden bright,
To the holy light,
Naked in the sunny beams delight.
Once a youthful pair,
Filled with softest care,
Met in garden bright
Where the holy light
Had just removed the curtains of the night.
Then, in rising day,
On the grass they play;
Parents were afar,
Strangers came not near,
And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
Tired with kisses sweet,
They agree to meet
When the silent sleep
Waves o'er heaven's deep,
And the weary tired wanderers weep.
To her father white
Came the maiden bright;
But his loving look,
Like the holy book
All her tender limbs with terror shook.
"Ona, pale and weak,
To thy father speak!
Oh the trembling fear!
Oh the dismal care
That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!"
THE SCHOOLBOY
I love to rise on a summer morn,
When birds are singing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
Oh what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn, --
Oh it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning's bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring?
Oh father and mother, if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care's dismay, --
How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
TO TIRZAH
Whate'er is born of mortal birth
Must be consumed with the earth,
To rise from generation free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
The sexes sprang from shame and pride,
Blown in the morn, in evening died;
But mercy changed death into sleep;
The sexes rose to work and weep.
Thou, mother of my mortal part,
With cruelty didst mould my heart,
And with false self-deceiving tears
Didst bind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,
Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,
And me to mortal life betray.
The death of Jesus set me free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD
Youth of delight! come hither
And see the opening morn,
Image of Truth new-born.
Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
Dark disputes and artful teazing.
Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways;
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
And feel -- they know not what but care;
And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
APPENDIX
A DIVINE IMAGE
Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secresy the human dress.
The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace sealed,
The human heart its hungry gorge.
NOTE: Though written and engraved by Blake, "A DIVINE IMAGE" was never
included in the SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND OF EXPERIENCE. THEL'S Motto
Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:
Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?
THE BOOK of THEL
The Author & Printer Willm. Blake. 1780
THEL
I
The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,
All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air.
To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;
And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.
O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water?
Why fade these children of the spring? born but to smile & fall.
Ah! Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,
Like a reflection in a glass: like shadows in the water
Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.
Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air:
Ah! gentle may I lay me down and gentle rest my head.
And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gently hear the voice
Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time.
The Lilly of the valley breathing in the humble grass
Answerd the lovely maid and said: I am a watry weed,
And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales:
So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head
Yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all
Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads his hand
Saying, rejoice thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower.
Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks:
For thou shall be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna:
Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
To flourish in eternal vales: they why should Thel complain.
Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter a sigh.
She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.
Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley.
Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'er tired
The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells the milky garments
He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face,
Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints.
Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume.
Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs
Revives the milked cow, & tames the fire-breathing steed.
But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun:
I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place.
Queen of the vales the Lily answered, ask the tender cloud,
And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky.
And why it scatters its bright beauty thro the humid air.
Descend O little cloud & hover before the eyes of Thel.
The Cloud descended and the Lily bowd her modest head:
And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.
II.
O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me
Why thou complainest now when in one hour thou fade away:
Then we shall seek thee but not find: ah Thel is like to thee.
I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.
The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg'd.
Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.
O virgin know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
Where Luvah doth renew his horses: lookst thou on my youth.
And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more.
Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away.
It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy:
Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers:
And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent
The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun.
Till we arise link'd in a golden band and never part:
But walk united bearing food to all our tender flowers.
Dost thou O little cloud? I fear that I am not like thee:
For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers:
But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling birds,
But I feed not the warbling birds, they fly and seek their food:
But Thel delights in these no more because I fade away
And all shall say, without a use this shining women liv'd,
Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms.
The Cloud reclind upon his airy throne and answerd thus.
Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies,
How great thy use, how great thy blessing, every thing that lives.
Lives not alone nor or itself: fear not and I will call,
The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice.
Come forth worm and the silent valley, to thy pensive queen.
The helpless worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,
And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale.
III.
Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed.
Art thou a Worm? image of weakness, art thou but a Worm?
I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lillys leaf;
Ah weep not little voice, thou can'st not speak, but thou can'st weep:
Is this a Worm? I see they lay helpless & naked: weeping
And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles.
The Clod of Clay heard the Worms voice & rais'd her pitying head:
She bowd over the weeping infant, and her life exhald
In milky fondness, then on Thel she fix'd her humble eyes;
O beauty of the vales of Har, we live not for ourselves,
Thou seest me the meanest thing, and so I am indeed:
My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark,
But he that loves the lowly, pours his oil upon my head
And kisses me, and binds his nuptial bands around my breast.
And says; Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee
And I have given thee a crown that none can take away.
But how this is sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know
I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love.
The daughter of beauty wip'd her pitying tears with her white veil,
And said, Alas! I knew not this, and therefore did I weep:
That God would love a Worm I knew, and punish the evil foot
That wilful bruis'd its helpless form: but that he cherish'd it
With milk and oil I never knew, and therefore did I weep,
And I complaind in the mild air, because I fade away.
And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.
Queen of the vales, the matron Clay answered: I heard thy sighs.
And all thy moans flew o'er my roof, but I have call'd them down:
Wilt thou O Queen enter my house, tis given thee to enter,
And to return: fear nothing, enter with thy virgin feet.
IV.
The eternal gates terrific porter lifted the northern bar:
Thel enter'd in & saw the secrets of the land unknown;
She saw the couches of the dead, & where the fibrous roots
Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:
A land of sorrows & of tears where never smile was seen.
She wandered in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, listning
Dolors & lamentations: waiting oft beside the dewy grave
She stood in silence, listning to the voices of the ground,
Till to her own grave plot she came, & there she sat down.
And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit.
Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction?
Or the glistening Eye to the poison of a smile!
Why are Eyelids stord with arrows ready drawn,
Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie!
Or an Eye of gifts & graces showring fruits & coined gold!
Why a Tongue impress'd with honey from every wind?
Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in?
Why a Nostril wide inhaling terror trembling & affright
Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy?
Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?
The Virgin started from her seat, & with a shriek,
Fled back unhinderd till she came into the vales of Har. |
|