William Blake Poems

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
...

The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
...

Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
...

'I have no name;
I am but two days old.'
What shall I call thee?
...

Love and harmony combine,
And round our souls entwine
While thy branches mix with mine,
And our roots together join.
...

Merry, merry sparrow!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Sees you, swift as arrow,
...

My mother groaned, my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt;
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
...

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
...

Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
...

Never seek to tell thy love
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.
...