Day 41/365 innocence - william black

 Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand


And a Heaven in a Wild Flower


Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand


And Eternity in an hour


A Robin Red breast in a Cage


Puts all Heaven in a Rage


A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons


Shudders Hell thr' all its regions


A dog starvd at his Masters Gate


Predicts the ruin of the State


A Horse misusd upon the Road


Calls to Heaven for Human blood


Each outcry of the hunted Hare


A fibre from the Brain does tear


A Skylark wounded in the wing


A Cherubim does cease to sing


The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight


Does the Rising Sun affright


Every Wolfs & Lions howl


Raises from Hell a Human Soul


The wild deer, wandring here & there


Keeps the Human Soul from Care


The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife


And yet forgives the Butchers knife


The Bat that flits at close of Eve


Has left the Brain that wont Believe


The Owl that calls upon the Night


Speaks the Unbelievers fright


He who shall hurt the little Wren


Shall never be belovd by Men


He who the Ox to wrath has movd


Shall never be by Woman lovd


The wanton Boy that kills the Fly


Shall feel the Spiders enmity


He who torments the Chafers Sprite


Weaves a Bower in endless Night


The Catterpiller on the Leaf


Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief


Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly


For the Last Judgment draweth nigh


He who shall train the Horse to War


Shall never pass the Polar Bar


The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat


Feed them & thou wilt grow fat


The Gnat that sings his Summers Song


Poison gets from Slanders tongue


The poison of the Snake & Newt


Is the sweat of Envys Foot


The poison of the Honey Bee


Is the Artists Jealousy


The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags


Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags


A Truth thats told with bad intent


Beats all the Lies you can invent


It is right it should be so


Man was made for Joy & Woe


And when this we rightly know


Thro the World we safely go


Joy & Woe are woven fine


A Clothing for the soul divine


Under every grief & pine


Runs a joy with silken twine


The Babe is more than swadling Bands


Throughout all these Human Lands


Tools were made & Born were hands


Every Farmer Understands


Every Tear from Every Eye


Becomes a Babe in Eternity


This is caught by Females bright


And returnd to its own delight


The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar


Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore


The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath


Writes Revenge in realms of Death


The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air


Does to Rags the Heavens tear


The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun


Palsied strikes the Summers Sun


The poor Mans Farthing is worth more


Than all the Gold on Africs Shore


One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands


Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands


Or if protected from on high


Does that whole Nation sell & buy


He who mocks the Infants Faith


Shall be mockd in Age & Death


He who shall teach the Child to Doubt


The rotting Grave shall neer get out


He who respects the Infants faith


Triumphs over Hell & Death


The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons


Are the Fruits of the Two seasons


The Questioner who sits so sly


Shall never know how to Reply


He who replies to words of Doubt


Doth put the Light of Knowledge out


The Strongest Poison ever known


Came from Caesars Laurel Crown


Nought can Deform the Human Race


Like to the Armours iron brace


When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow


To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow


A Riddle or the Crickets Cry


Is to Doubt a fit Reply


The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile


Make Lame Philosophy to smile


He who Doubts from what he sees


Will neer Believe do what you Please


If the Sun & Moon should Doubt


Theyd immediately Go out


To be in a Passion you Good may Do


But no Good if a Passion is in you


The Whore & Gambler by the State


Licencd build that Nations Fate


The Harlots cry from Street to Street


Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet


The Winners Shout the Losers Curse


Dance before dead Englands Hearse


Every Night & every Morn


Some to Misery are Born


Every Morn and every Night


Some are Born to sweet delight


Some are Born to sweet delight


Some are Born to Endless Night


We are led to Believe a Lie


When we see not Thro the Eye


Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night


When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light


God Appears & God is Light


To those poor Souls who dwell in Night


But does a Human Form Display


To those who Dwell in Realms of day


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