a
poem by
William Blake from his
Songs of Innocence -
1789
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 groves,
Where flocks have took delight.
Where
lambs have nibbled, silent moves
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 cover'd 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
tygers 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
Is 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, wash'd in life's river,
My bright
mane for ever
Shall shine like the
gold
As I guard o'er the fold."
Source: Kazin, Alfred (ed).
The Portable Blake, p. 92-94. 1976, Penguin Books, New York. The poem is presented as I found it typeset, but the original work is in the public domain.