He doth give his joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:

Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.

Oh He gives to us His joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.

THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD.

OUTH of delight! come hither

And see the opening morn,

Image of Truth new-born.

Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,

Dark disputes and artful teazing.

Folly is an endless maze;

Tangled roots perplex her ways;

How many have fallen there!

They stumble all night over bones of the dead; And feel they know not what but care;

And wish to lead others, when they should be led.

SONGS OF EXPERIENCE.

(ENGRAVED 1794.)1

INTRODUCTION.

EAR the voice of the Bard,

Who present, past, and future, sees
Whose ears have heard

The Holy Word

That walked among the ancient trees

Calling the lapsed soul,

And weeping in the evening dew;

That might control

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 slumbrous mass.

In order of date, the Songs of Experience should follow after the Gates of Paradise; which were issued in 1793, but their close connection with the Songs of Innocence induces me to invert this order.

"Turn away no more;

Why wilt thou turn away?

The starry floor,

The watery shore,

Are given thee till the break of day."

EARTH'S ANSWER.

ARTH raised up her head

From the darkness dread and drear,

Her light fled,

Stony, dread,

And her locks covered with grey despair

"Prisoned on watery shore,

Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;

Weeping o'er,

I hear the father of the ancient men.

"Selfish father of men !

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
Can delight,

Chained in night,

The virgins of youth and morning bear?

"Does spring hide its joy,

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower

Sow by night,

Or the ploughman in darkness plough?

E

"Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around!
Selfish, vain,

Eternal bane,

That free love with bondage bound."

66

THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE.

OVE 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."

So sang a little clod of clay,

Trodden with the cattle's feet.

But a pebble of the brook

Warbled out these metres meet:

"Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,

And builds a hell in heaven's despite."

HOLY THURSDAY.

S this a holy thing to see

In a rich and fruitful land,—

Babes reduced to misery,

Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song ?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine,

And their fields are bleak and bare, And their ways are filled with thorns : It is eternal-winter there.

For where'er the sun does shine,
And where'er the rain does fall,
Babes should never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.

THE LITTLE GIRL LOST.

N futurity

I prophetic see

That the earth from sleep (Grave the sentence deep)

Shall arise, and seek
For her Maker meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.

In the southern clime,
Where the summer's prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.