Songs of Innocence and Experience: with Other PoemsBasil Montagu Pickering, 1866 - 108 ˹éÒ |
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˹éÒ 102
... fairy in a nut , Long John Brown had the devil in his gut ; Long John Brown loved little Mary Bell , And the fairy drew the devil into the nutshell . Her fairy skipp'd out , and her fairy skipp'd in , He laugh'd at the devil , saying ...
... fairy in a nut , Long John Brown had the devil in his gut ; Long John Brown loved little Mary Bell , And the fairy drew the devil into the nutshell . Her fairy skipp'd out , and her fairy skipp'd in , He laugh'd at the devil , saying ...
˹éÒ 103
with Other Poems William Blake. Then the fairy skipp'd out of the old nutshell , And woe and alack ! for pretty Mary Bell ; For the devil crept in when the fairy skipp'd out , And there goes Miss Bell with her fusty old nut . I WILLIAM ...
with Other Poems William Blake. Then the fairy skipp'd out of the old nutshell , And woe and alack ! for pretty Mary Bell ; For the devil crept in when the fairy skipp'd out , And there goes Miss Bell with her fusty old nut . I WILLIAM ...
˹éÒ 104
... fairies one , two , and three ; But the angels of Providence drove them away , And he return'd home in misery . He went not out to the field nor fold , He went not out to the village nor town , But he came home in a black black cloud ...
... fairies one , two , and three ; But the angels of Providence drove them away , And he return'd home in misery . He went not out to the field nor fold , He went not out to the village nor town , But he came home in a black black cloud ...
˹éÒ 106
... fairies that fled from William Bond Danced around her shining head , They danced over the pillow white , And the angels of Providence left the bed . " I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine , But O , he lives in the moony light : I ...
... fairies that fled from William Bond Danced around her shining head , They danced over the pillow white , And the angels of Providence left the bed . " I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine , But O , he lives in the moony light : I ...
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Allan Cunningham angel of Providence another's arm'd BASIL MONTAGU PICKERING beauty beguiles birds black black cloud blossoms bore bright CATULLUS Charles Lamb child Cloth deep desert wild devil Dost dread echoing green edition Engraved Title pub eyes face fairy skipp'd Fcap fear fill'd fled flower Frontispiece and Engraved frowning gold golden grave grief hand happy hear heaven HOLY THURSDAY human dress infant small Innocence and Experience kiss Land of Dreams laugh LITTLE BOY LOST Little lamb Long John Brown Lyca Lyrical Ballads maiden Mary Bell mercy Merrily merry mild morning never night o'er pale pipe pity pleasant poor Portrait and Engraved pretty rose-tree PROPERTIUS round shine sigh sing SONGS OF EXPERIENCE Songs of Innocence sorrow soul Stothard Sweet joy sweet love Sweet smiles tears tender Tennyson thee thou TIBULLUS tigers trembling uncut vols WALTON'S wandering wept William Blake William Bond Wordsworth youth
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˹éÒ xv - 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!
˹éÒ 20 - 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.
˹éÒ 63 - I wander thro' each charter'd street Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And 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-forg'd manacles I hear: How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls; But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear.
˹éÒ 1 - 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 :
˹éÒ 48 - 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.
˹éÒ xv - 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...
˹éÒ 51 - 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 ? 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?
˹éÒ 52 - Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee?
˹éÒ 18 - Thames waters flow. O 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 wind they raise to heaven the voice of song, 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.
˹éÒ 105 - The door of death is made of gold, That mortal eyes cannot behold ; But when the mortal eyes are closed, And cold and pale the limbs reposed, The soul awakes, and wondering sees In her mild hand the golden keys.