Poems of William Blake by William Blake
page 12 of 49 (24%)
page 12 of 49 (24%)
|
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, |
|