The Poems of William Blake


A little black thing in the snow,

Crying "weep! weep!" in notes of woe!

"Where are thy father and mother? Say!"--

"They are both gone up to the church to pray.

"Because I was happy upon the heath,

And smiled among the winter's snow,

They clothed me in the clothes of death,

And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

"And because I am happy and dance and sing,

They think they have done me no injury,

And are gone to praise God and his priest and king,

Who make up a heaven of our misery."