Songs of Innocence and of Experience

Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe; I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I water'd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with my smiles And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had veil'd the pole: In the morning glad I see My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree. - A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. -A Poison Tree

Can I see anothers woe, And not be in sorrow too. Can I see anothers grief, And not seek for kind relief. - On Anothers Sorrow

For Mercy has a human heart Pity, a human face: And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.

Little Fly Thy summers play, My thoughtless hand Has brush'd away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink & sing: Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength & breath: And the want Of thought is death; Then am I A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die

Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.

O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm. That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy; And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. - The Sick Rose

How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?

I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow; A mark in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every man, In every infant’s cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear: How the chimney-sweeper’s cry Every blackening church appals, And the hapless soldier’s sigh Runs in blood down palace-walls. But most, through midnight streets I hear How the youthful harlot’s curse Blasts the new-born infant’s tear, And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse. - London

Can I see anothers woe, And not be in sorrow too. Can I see anothers grief, And not seek for kind relief. Can I see a falling tear. And not feel my sorrows share, Can a father see his child, Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd. Can a mother sit and hear, An infant groan, an infant fear- No no never can it be, Never, never can it be. - On Anothers Sorrow

And, father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs around the door.

A flower was offered to me, Such a flower as May never bore; But I said "I've a pretty rose tree," And I passed the sweet flower o'er. Then I went to my pretty rose tree, To tend her by day and by night; But my rose turned away with jealousy, And her thorns were my only delight.

The modest Rose puts forth a Thorn. The humble Sheep a threat'ning Horn. While the Lily white shall in love delight. Nor a Thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

Hear the voice of the Bard! Who Present, Past, & Future sees Whose ears have heard, The Holy Word, That walk'd among the ancient trees. Calling the lapsed Soul And weeping in the evening dew: That might controll, The starry pole; And fallen fallen light renew! O Earth O Earth return! Arise from out the dewy grass; Night is worn, And the morn Rises from the slumberous mass. Turn away no more: Why wilt thou turn away The starry floor The watry shore Is giv'n thee till the break of day. - "Introduction to the Songs of Experience

A happy fly If I live Or if I die

Piping down the valleys wild Piping songs of pleasant glee On a cloud I saw a child. And he laughing said to me. Pipe a song about a Lamb; So I piped with merry chear, Piper pipe that song again— So I piped, he wept to hear. Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe Sing thy songs of happy chear, So I sung the same again While he wept with joy to hear Piper sit thee down and write In a book that all may read— So he vanish'd from my sight. And I pluck'd a hollow reed. And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear. - "Introduction to the Songs of Innocence

My mother groand! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud; Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my fathers hands: Striving against my swaddling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mothers breast.

Y todos deben amar a la forma humana, Sean paganos, turcos o judíos; Donde moran la Misericordia, el Amor y la Piedad, allí Dios también tiene su morada.

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