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Post by heartfelt7 on Jul 28, 2012 18:32:18 GMT -6
Song
How sweet I roam'd from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, 'Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!
He shew'd me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fir'd 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.
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Post by glenn on Jul 30, 2012 13:43:59 GMT -6
Nice poem. I have always liked Blake's poetry.
(There is actually already a thread started for him here)
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