Songs from ‘An Island in The Moon’
What is it men in women do require The lineaments of Gratified Desir… What is it women do in men require The lineaments of Gratified Desir…
I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his hor… And the skylark sings with me. Oh, what sweet company!
WHO is this, that with unerring step dares tempt the wilds, where only Nature’s foot hath trod? ’Tis Contemplation, daughter of the grey Morning! Majestical she steppeth, and with her p...
Sweet dreams, form a shade O’er my lovely infant’s head! Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony beams! Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies
“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 des… So sung a little Clod of Clay
Awake, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother’s only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle s… Awake! thy father does thee keep. `O, what land is the Land of Drea…
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,
Whate’er is born of mortal birth Must be consumed with the earth, To rise from generation free: Then what have I to do with thee? The sexes sprung from shame and pr…
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green… And the gates of this Chapel were…
Sweet Mary, the first time she ev… Came into the ball—room among the… The young men and maidens around h… And these are the words upon every… `An Angel is here from the heaven…
A little black thing among the sno… Crying “weep! 'weep!” in notes of… “Where are thy father and mother?… “They are both gone up to the chur… Because I was happy upon the heat…
WHEN Old Corruption first begun… Adorn’d in yellow vest, He committed on Flesh a whoredom— O, what a wicked beast! From then a callow babe did spring…
LEAVE, O leave me to my sorrows… Here I’ll sit and fade away, Till I’m nothing but a spirit, And I lose this form of clay. Then if chance along this forest