My Pretty Rose Tree by William Blake
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...
View ArticleThe Clod and the Pebble by William Blake
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. So sung a little Clod of Clay, Trodden with the cattle’s feet;...
View ArticleThe Little Black Boy by William Blake
My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O, my soul is white! White as an angel is the English child, But I am black, as if bereaved of light. My mother taught me underneath a tree,...
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