The Golden Net
Three Virgins at the break of day: / `Whither, young man, whither away
NURSE'S SONG
❦
When voices of children are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
And your winter and night in disguise.
More poems by William Blake
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend: / I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
Crystal Cabinet, The
The Maiden caught me in the wild, / Where I was dancing merrily;
A Divine Image
Cruelty has a human heart, / And Jealousy a human face;