Chimney Sweeper, The

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."

More poems by William Blake

INFANT JOY

I have no name; / I am but two days old.

William Blake

A Little Boy Lost

"Nought loves another as itself, / Nor venerates another so,

William Blake

A Little Girl Lost

Children of the future age, / Reading this indignant page,

William Blake

THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the southern wild, / And I am black, but oh my soul is white!

William Blake

All poems by William Blake →