Is this a holy thing to see

In a rich and fruitful land, --

Babes reduced to misery,

Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?

Can it be a song of joy?

And so many children poor?

It is a land of poverty!

And their son does never shine,

And their fields are bleak and bare,

And their ways are filled with thorns:

It is eternal winter there.

For where'er the sun does shine,

And where'er the rain does fall,

Babes should never hunger there,

Nor poverty the mind appall.

The Complete Poems of William Blake - Complete Text

The Complete Poems of William Blake E-Text contains the full text of The Complete Poems of William Blake

• SONGS OF INNOCENCE
• THE SHEPHERD
• THE ECHOING GREEN
• THE LAMB
• THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
• THE BLOSSOM
• THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
• THE LITTLE BOY LOST
• THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
• LAUGHING SONG
• A SONG
• DIVINE IMAGE
• HOLY THURSDAY
• NIGHT
• SPRING
• NURSE'S SONG
• INFANT JOY
• A DREAM
• ON ANOTHER'S SORROW
• SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
• EARTH'S ANSWER
• THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE
• HOLY THURSDAY
• THE LITTLE GIRL LOST
• THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND
• THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER
• NURSE'S SONG
• THE SICK ROSE
• THE FLY
• THE ANGEL
• THE TIGER
• MY PRETTY ROSE TREE
• AH SUNFLOWER
• THE LILY
• THE GARDEN OF LOVE
• THE LITTLE VAGABOND
• LONDON
• THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
• INFANT SORROW
• A POISON TREE
• A LITTLE BOY LOST
• A LITTLE GIRL LOST
• THE SCHOOLBOY
• TO TIRZAH
• THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD
• APPENDIX
• THE BOOK of THEL
• Sources