Night by William Blake

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 
In heaven’s high bower, 
With silent delight 
Sits and smiles on the night. 
Farewell, green fields and happy grove, 
Where flocks have took delight: 
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move 
The feet of angels bright; 
Unseen they pour blessing 
And joy without ceasing 
On each bud and blossom, 
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest 
Where birds are cover’d warm; 
They visit caves of every beast, 
To keep them all from harm: 
If they see any weeping 
That should have been sleeping, 
They pour sleep on their head, 
And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tigers howl for prey, 
They pitying stand and weep, 
Seeking to drive their thirst away 
And keep them from the sheep. 
But, if they rush dreadful, 
The angels, most heedful, 
Receive each mild spirit, 
New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion’s ruddy eyes 
Shall flow with tears of gold: 
And pitying the tender cries, 
And walking round the fold: 
Saying, ‘Wrath, by His meekness, 
And, by His health, sickness, 
Are driven away 
From our immortal day.

‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb, 
I can lie down and sleep, 
Or think on Him who bore thy name, 
Graze after thee, and weep. 
For, wash’d in life’s river, 
My bright mane for ever 
Shall shine like the gold 
As I guard o’er the fold.’

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s