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470

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."

WILLIAM BLAKE

THE LAND OF DREAMS

AWAKE, awake, my little Boy!

Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:

Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

"O, what land is the Land of Dreams,
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father! I saw my Mother there,
Among the Lillies by waters fair.

"Among the lambs clothed in white,

She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.

I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;

O! when shall I again return?"

Dear Child, I also by pleasant streams

Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams,
But tho' calm and warm the waters wide,

I could not get to the other side.

"Father, O Father! what do we here,
In this Land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star."

WILLIAM Blake

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471

I KNOW A LITTLE GARDEN.
CLOSE

I KNOW a little garden-close
Set thick with lily and red rose,
Where I would wander if I might
From dewy dawn to dewy night,
And have one with me wandering.

And though within it no birds sing,
And though no pillared house is there,
And though the apple boughs are bare
Of fruit and blossom, would to God,
Her feet upon the green grass trod,
And I beheld them as before.

There comes a murmur from the shore,
And in the close two fair streams are,
Drawn from the purple hills afar,
Drawn down unto the restless sea;
Dark hills whose heath-bloom feeds no bee,
Dark shores no ship has ever seen,
Tormented by the billows green
Whose murmur comes unceasingly
Unto the place for which I cry.

For which I cry both day and night,
For which I let slip all delight,
Whereby I grow both deaf and blind,
Careless to win, unskilled to find,
And quick to lose what all men seek.

Yet tottering as I am, and weak,
Still have I left a little breath

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