A Little Boy Lost
"Nought loves another as itself, / Nor venerates another so,
Blossom, The
❦
Merry, merry sparrow!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Sees you, swift as arrow,
Seek your cradle narrow,
Near my bosom.
Pretty, pretty robin!
Under leaves so green
A happy blossom
Hears you sobbing, sobbing,
Pretty, pretty robin,
Near my bosom.
More poems by William Blake
I heard an Angel singing
I heard an Angel singing / When the day was springing:
Infant Sorrow
i / My mother groan'd, my father wept;
The Golden Net
Three Virgins at the break of day: / `Whither, young man, whither away