Songs of Innocence 13

Holy Thursday (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean
The children walking two & two in red & blue & green
Grey-headed beadles walkd before, with wands as white as snow
Till into the high dome of Pauls they like Thames waters flow

O what a multitude they seemd these flowers of London town
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own
The hum of multitudes was there but multitudes of lambs
Thousands of little boys & girls raising their innocent hands

Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among
Beneath them sit the aged men wise guardians of the poor
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door 

Songs of Innocence 12

The Divine Image (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

To Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
All pray in their distress; 
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
Is God our father dear; 
And Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
Is Man his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart
Pity, a human face; 
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine
Love Mercy Pity Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk or jew.
Where Mercy, Love & Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too. 

Songs of Innocence 11

A Cradle Song (1789)  

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Sweet dreams form a shade 
O’er my lovely infants head. 
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, 
By happy silent moony beams. 

Sweet sleep with soft down, 
Weave thy brows an infant crown. 
Sweet sleep Angel mild, 
Hover o’er my happy child. 

Sweet smiles in the night, 
Hover over my delight. 
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles 
All the livelong night beguiles. 

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, 
Chase not slumber from thy eyes. 
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles, 
All the dovelike moans beguiles. 

Sleep sleep happy child. 
All creation slept and smil’d. 
Sleep sleep, happy sleep, 
While o’er thee thy mother weep. 

Sweet babe in thy face, 
Holy image I can trace. 
Sweet babe once like thee, 
Thy maker lay and wept for me. 

Wept for me for thee for all, 
When he was an infant small. 
Thou his image ever see, 
Heavenly face that smiles on thee. 

Smiles on thee on me on all, 
Who became an infant small. 
Infant smiles are his own smiles, 
Heaven & earth to peace beguiles. 

Songs of Innocence 10

Laughing Song (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by,
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.

When the meadows laugh with lively green
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily,
With their sweet round mouths sing Ha, Ha, He.

When the painted birds laugh in the shade
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread
Come live & be merry and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He. 

Songs of Innocence 9

The Little Boy Found (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

The little boy lost in the lonely fen, 
Led by the wand'ring light, 
Began to cry, but God ever nigh, 
Appeard like his father in white. 

He kissed the child & by the hand led 
And to his mother brought, 
Who in sorrow pale, thro' the lonely dale 
Her little boy weeping sought. 

Songs of Innocence 8

The Little Boy Lost (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost. 

The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew. 

Songs of Innocence 7

The Chimney Sweeper (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue,
Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep. 
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lambs back, was shaved, so I said,
Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.

And so he was quiet, & that very night,
As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight,
That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned & Jack
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black. 

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins & set them all free.
Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm,
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm. 

Songs of Innocence 6

 

The Blossom (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Merry, Merry Sparrow! 
Under leaves so green 
A happy Blossom 
Sees you, swift as arrow, 
Seek your cradle narrow, 
Near my Bosom. 

Pretty, Pretty Robin! 
Under leaves so green 
A happy Blossom 
Hears you sobbing, sobbing, 
Pretty Pretty Robin, 
Near my Bosom. 

Songs of Innocence 5

The Little Black Boy (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

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 bereav'd of light.

My mother taught me underneath a tree 
And sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And pointing to the east began to say. 

Look on the rising sun: there God does live 
And gives his light, and gives his heat away. 
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning joy in the noonday.

And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love, 
And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear 
The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice. 
Saying: come out from the grove my love & care,
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.

Thus did my mother say and kissed me, 
And thus I say to little English boy. 
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy: 

I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear, 
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee. 
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him and he will then love me. 

Songs of Innocence 4

The Lamb (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Little Lamb who made thee? 

Dost thou know who made thee? 
Gave thee life and bid thee feed, 
By the stream and o'er the mead; 
Gave thee clothing of delight, 
Softest clothing wooly bright; 
Gave thee such a tender voice, 
Making all the vales rejoice: 

Little Lamb who made thee? 

Dost thou know who made thee? 

Little Lamb I'll tell thee, 
Little Lamb I'll tell thee: 

He is called by thy name, 
For he calls himself a Lamb. 
He is meek and he is mild, 
He became a little child: 
I a child and thou a lamb, 
We are called by his name. 

Little Lamb God bless thee. 

Little Lamb God bless thee. 

Songs of Innocence 3

The Ecchoing Green (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

The Sun does arise

And make happy the skies. 

The merry bells ring,

To welcome the Spring.
The sky-lark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around,
To the bells chearful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Ecchoing Green. 

Old John with white hair
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say
"Such such were the joys,
When we all girls & boys,
In our youth-time were seen,
On the Ecchoing Green." 

Till the little ones weary
No more can be merry
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end:
Round the laps of their mothers,
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest:
And sport no more seen,
On the darkening Green. 

Songs of Innocence 2

The Shepherd (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

How sweet is the Shepherds sweet lot
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day
And his tongue shall be filled with praise. 

For he hears the lambs innocent call,
And he hears the ewes tender reply.
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh. 

Songs of Innocence 1

Songs of Innocence: Introduction (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me—

"Pipe a song about a lamb:"
So I piped with merry cheer.
"Piper, pipe that song again:"
So I piped; he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer:"
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read—"
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear. 

Songs of Innocence and Experience

It took me many years to appreciate William Blake, and now I can barely imagine my life without him. 

Songs of Innocence and Experience has become almost a daily source of reference for the tension between the natural and the fallen, between virtue and vice, between reason and imagination, between all the forces at work within us. The pairing of the text with illustrations is a special joy. 

The images reproduced in this series of posts are from the 1826 copy at the Library of Congress ("Copy Z"), as they are the best resolution I have available. 

—5/2015 

• • • • • 

William Blake, Songs of Innocence and of Experience: Showing the Two Contrary States of the Human Soul (1794)