Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love,
LOVE and harmony combine, And around our souls entwine While thy branches mix with mine, And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit,
HONOUR and Genius is all I ask… And I ask the Gods no more! No more! No more! [the three Phi… No more! No more!
LITTLE PHOEBUS came struttin… With his fat belly and his round c… What is it you would please to hav… Ho! Ho! I won’t let it go at only so and s…
O HOLY virgin! clad in purest wh… Unlock heav’n’s golden gates, and… Awake the dawn that sleeps in heav… Rise from the chambers of the east… The honey’d dew that cometh on wak…
The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest… And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower
O THOU who passest thro’ our val… Thy strength, curb thy fierce stee… That flames from their large nostr… Oft pitched’st here thy golden ten… Beneath our oaks hast slept, while…
I saw a chapel all of gold That none did dare to enter in, And many weeping stood without, Weeping, mourning, worshipping. I saw a serpent rise between
q| I will sing you a song of Los,… He sung it to four harps, at the t… In heart-formèd Africa. Urizen faded! Ariston shudder’d! And thus the Song began:—
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Pity would be no more If we did not make somebody poor, And Mercy no more could be If all were as happy as we. And mutual fear brings Peace,
O THOU with dewy locks, who look… Thro’ the clear windows of the mor… Thine angel eyes upon our western… Which in full choir hails thy appr… The hills tell each other, and the…
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
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…
Whether on Ida’s shady brow, Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the sun, that now From ancient melody have ceas’d; Whether in Heav’n ye wander fair,