TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY TIMELY blossom, infant fair, Yet too innocent to blush; And thou shalt in thy daughter see, INTRODUCTION TO SONGS OF INNOCENCE PIPING down the valleys wild -Pipe a song about a Lamb l' 'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; 'Piper, sit thee down and write And I made a rural pen, INTRODUCTION TO SONGS OF INNOCENCE PIPING down the valleys wild -Pipe a song about a Lamb l' 'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; 'Piper, sit thee down and write And I made a rural pen, SONG HOW Sweet I roam'd from field to field He show'd me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fired my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty. William Blake |