"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."

V. 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!

VI. A DREAM.

NCE a dream did weave a shade

Ner my Angel-guarded bed,

That an Emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled 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 dropp'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 beetle's hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!"

VII. ON ANOTHER'S SORROW.

AN I see another's woe,

CAN

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 fill'd?

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 nest,
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?
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,
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 and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.

I

SONGS OF EXPERIENCE.

1794.

WILLIAM BLAKE,

1. THE ANGEL.

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 wip'd 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 blush'd 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.

II. THE TIGER.

TIGER, Tiger, 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 ?2
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,3
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain ?1
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?

Did He who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

LATER RENDERINGS.

I Framed thy fearful symmetry?

2 Burned that fire within thine eyes?

3 When thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand formed thy dread feet?

4 What the hammer, what the chain,
Knit thy strength and forged thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dared thy deadly terrors clasp?