Poems of William Blake, Chapter 3

Then naked and white,all their bags left behind They rise upon clouds,and sport in the wind And the angel told Tom,if he'd be a good boy“ He'd have God for his father,and never want joy“ And so Tom awoke,and we rose in the dark And got with our bags and our brushes to work Though the morning was cold,Tom was happy and warm So,if all do their duty,they need not fear harm Chapter 8 《The Little Boy Lost》《 Father,father, where are you going? Oh,do not walk so fast! Speak,father, speak to your little boy Orelse I shall be lost The night was dark, no father was there The child was wet with dew The mire was deep, and the child did weep And away the vapour flew Chapter 9《The Little Boy Found》《 The little boy lost in the lonely fen Led by the wandering light Began to cry,but God,ever nigh Appeared like his father,in white He kissed the child,and by the hand led And to his mother brought Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale Her little boy weeping sought Chapter 10《Laughing Song》《 When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy And the dimpling stream runs laughing by When the air does laugh with our merry wit And the green hill laughs with the noise of it When the meadows laugh with lively green And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene When Mary and Susan and Emily With their sweet round mouths sing Ha ha he! When the painted birds laugh in the shade Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread Come live, and be merry, and join with me To sing the sweet chorus of Ha ha he! Chapter 11《A Cradle Song》《 Sweet dreams, form a shade O'er my lovely infant's head Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony beams! Sweet Sleep, with soft down Sweet smiles, in the night Hover over my delight! Sweet smiles, mother's smiles, All the livelong night beguiles. Sweet moans, dovelike sighs Chase not slumber from thy eyes! Sweet moans, sweeter smiles All the dovelike moans beguiles. Sleep, sleep, happy child! All creation slept and smiled. Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,While o'er thee thy mother weep. Sweet babe, in thy face Holy image I can trace Sweet babe, once like thee,Thy Maker lay, and wept for me Wept for me, for thee, for all When He was an infant small Thou His image ever see Heavenly face that smiles on thee! Smiles on thee, on me, on all, Who became an infant small; Infant smiles are His own smiles; Heaven and earth to peace beguiles. Chapter 12《The Divine Image》《 To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness For Mercy, Pity, Peace,and Love Is God our Father dear; And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, Is man, His child and care. For Mercy has a human heart; Pity, a human face; And Love, the human form divine: And Peace the human dress Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress Prays to the human form divine: Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace And all must love the human form In heathen, Turk, or Jew Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too Chapter 13《Holy Thursday》《 Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow Till into the high dome of Paul's they like 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 Chapter 14《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 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