Songs of Innocence and Experience: with Other PoemsBasil Montagu Pickering, 1866 - 108 páginas |
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Página v
... Sorrow 34 The Voice of the Ancient Bard 36 SONGS OF EXPERIENCE . Introduction Earth's Answer Infant Sorrow My pretty Rose - tree 2434 39 41 43 44 A 2 Ah , Sunflower ! The Lily The Sick Rose Nurse's.
... Sorrow 34 The Voice of the Ancient Bard 36 SONGS OF EXPERIENCE . Introduction Earth's Answer Infant Sorrow My pretty Rose - tree 2434 39 41 43 44 A 2 Ah , Sunflower ! The Lily The Sick Rose Nurse's.
Página 15
... 'd like his father in white : He kiss'd the child , and by the hand led , And to his mother brought , Who , in sorrow pale , thro ' the lonely dale , Her little boy weeping sought . S A CRADLE SONG . WEET dreams , form a INNOCENCE . 15.
... 'd like his father in white : He kiss'd the child , and by the hand led , And to his mother brought , Who , in sorrow pale , thro ' the lonely dale , Her little boy weeping sought . S A CRADLE SONG . WEET dreams , form a INNOCENCE . 15.
Página 33
... sorrow and care's dismay— How shall the Summer arise in joy , Or the summer fruits appear ? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy , Or bless the mellowing year , When the blasts of Winter appear ? F ON ANOTHER'S SORROW AN I see ...
... sorrow and care's dismay— How shall the Summer arise in joy , Or the summer fruits appear ? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy , Or bless the mellowing year , When the blasts of Winter appear ? F ON ANOTHER'S SORROW AN I see ...
Página 34
... 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 ...
... 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 ...
Página 35
... 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 ...
... 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 ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Songs of Innocence & of Experience: (Annotated Edition) William Blake Sin vista previa disponible - 2021 |
Términos y frases comunes
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
Pasajes populares
Página 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!
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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 :
Página 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.
Página 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...
Página 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?
Página 52 - Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Página 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.
Página 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.