Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold; But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm. Besides, I can tell where I am used well; The poor parsons with wind like a blown bladder swell. ...
I love to rise on a summer morn, When birds are singing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me: Oh what sweet company! ...
How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot! From the morn to the evening he stays; He shall follow his sheep all the day, And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
The sky is an immortal tent built by the Sons of Los: And every space that a man views around his dwelling-place Standing on his own roof or in his garden on a mount...
I will sing you a song of Los. the Eternal Prophet: He sung it to four harps at the tables of Eternity. In heart-formed Africa. Urizen faded! Ariston shudderd! And thus the Song began ...
Youth of delight! come hither And see the opening morn, Image of Truth new-born. Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason, Dark disputes and artful teazing. Folly is an endless maze;...
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,...
O holy virgin! clad in purest white, Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth; Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring...
O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn Thine angel eyes upon our western isle, Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring! ...
O thou who passest thro' our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer, Oft pitched'st here thy goldent tent, and oft...