 songs of innocence from songs of innocence and songs of experience by William Blake this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Thomas Copeland songs of innocence introduction piping down the valley's 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 that 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 vanished from my sight and I plucked a hollow reed and I made a rural pen and I stay in the water clear and I wrote my happy songs every child make joy to hear the shepherd how sweet is the shepherd 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 lamb's innocent call and he hears the youths tend to reply he is watchful while they are in peace for they know when their shepherd is nigh the echoing green the sun does arise and make happy the skies the merry bells ring to welcome the spring the skylock and thrush the birds of the bush sing louder around to the bells cheerful sound while our sport shall be seen on the echoing green oh John with white hair does laugh awake hair sitting under the oak among the old folk they laugh at our play and soon they all say such such with the joys when we all girls and boys in our youth time was seen on the echoing green till the little ones weary no more can be married the sun does descend in our sports of 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 the lamb little lamb who made the does they'll know who made thee gave thee life and bid thee feed by the stream and what the mead gave the clothing of delight softest clothing woolly bright gave thee such a tender voice making all the veils rejoice little lamb who made thee does they'll 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 the little black boy my mother bore me in the southern wild and I am black but oh 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 the 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 noon day and we are put on earth a little space that we may learn to bear the beams of love and these black bodies and the sunburnt face are but a cloud and like a shady grove for when our souls have learned the heat to bear the cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice saying come out from the grove my love and 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 father's knee and then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair and be like him and he will then love me the blossom 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 the chimney sweeper when my mother died I was very young and my father sold me while yet my tongue could scarcely cry weep weep weep so your chimneys I sweep and in suit I sleep there's little Tom Dacre who cried when his head that curled like a lambsback was shaved so I said hush Tom never mind it for when your heads bear you know that the suit cannot spoil your white hair and so he was quiet and that very night as Tom was asleep being he had such a sight that thousands of sweepers Dick Joe Ned and 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 and 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 and 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 and never want joy and so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark and got with our bags and our brushes to work though the morning was cold Tom was happy and warm so if all do their duty they need not fear harm the little boy lost father father where are you going who 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 and the child did weep and away the vapor flew the little boy found the little boy lost in the lonely fenn led by the wandering light began to cry but God ever nigh appeared like his father in white he kissed the child and by the hand led and to his mother brought win sorrow pale to the lonely Dale her little boy weeping salt laughing song 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 mouth sing ha ha he when the painted birds laugh in the shade where our table with cherries and nuts is spread come live and be merry and join with me to sing the sweet chorus of ha ha he a cradle song sweet dreams form a shade or my lovely infant's 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 or my happy child sweet smiles in the night hover over my delight sweet smiles mother smiles all the live long night beguiles sweet moans dove like sighs chase not slumber from thy eyes sweet moans sweeter smiles all the dove like moans beguiles sleep sleep happy child all creations slept and smiled sleep sleep happy sleep while or thee thy mother weep sweet babe in thy face holy image I can trace sweet babe once like thee thy maker lay and wet for me wet 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 and earth to peace beguiles the divine image 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 as a human heart pity a human face and love the human form divine and peace the human dress then every man of every climb 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 and pity dwell their God is dwelling to holy Thursday was on a holy Thursday their innocent faces clean the children walking to and to in red and blue and green gray-headed beetles walk before with wands as white as snow till into the high dome of poles they like Thames waters flow oh what a multitude they seem 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 and girls raising their innocent hands now like a mighty wind they raised to heaven the voice of song or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among beneath them sit the aged man wise guardians of the poor then cherish pity lest you drive an angel from your door night the sun descending in the west the evening star to shine the birds are silent in their nest and I must seek for my the moon like a flower in heaven's high bower with silent delight sits and smiles on the night farewell green fields and happy groves where flocks of took delight where lambs of nibble silent moves the feet of angels bright unseen they poor blessing and joy without ceasing on each button blossom and each sleeping bosom they look in every thoughtless nest where birds are covered warm they visit caves of every beast to keep them all from harm if they see any weeping that should have been sleeping they poor sleep on their head and sit down by their bed when wolves and tigers howl for prey they pitying stand and weep seeking to drive their thirst away and keep them from the sheep but if they rush dreadful the angels most heedful receive each mild spirit new worlds to inherit and there the lion's ruddy eyes shall flow with tears of gold and pitying the tender cries and walking round the fold saying wrath by his meekness and by his health sickness is driven away from our immortal day and now beside the bleaching lamb I can lie down and sleep or think on him who bought thy name graze after thee and weep for washed in life's river my bright mane forever shall shine like the gold as I guard or the fold spring sound the flute now it's mute birds delight day and night night and gale in the dale lock in sky merrily merrily merrily to welcome in the year little boy full of joy little girl sweet and small copter's throw so do you merry voice infant noise merrily merrily to welcome in the year little lamb here I am come and lick my white neck let me pull your soft wool let me kiss your soft face merrily merrily we welcome in the year nurses song when voices of children are heard on the green and laughing is heard on the hill my heart is at rest within my breast and everything else is still then come home my children the sun has gone down and the dews of night arise calm calm leave off play and let us away till the morning appears in the skies no no let us play for it is yet day and we cannot go to sleep besides in the sky the little birds fly and the hills are all covered with sheep well well go and play till the light fades away and then go home to bed the little ones leap it and shouted and laughed and all the hills echo it infant joy I have no name I am but two days old what shall I call thee I happy am joy is my name sweet joy before thee pretty joy sweet joy but two days old sweet joy I call thee thou just smile I sing the while sweet joy before thee a dream once a dream did weave a shade or my angel guarded a bed that an Emmett lost its way where on grass me thought I lay troubled wielded and forlorn dark benighted travel worn over many a tangled spray all heart broke I heard her say oh my children do they cry do they hear their father sigh now they look abroad to see now return and weep for me pitying I dropped a tear but I saw a glow warm near who replied what wailing white calls the watchman of the night I am set to light the ground while the beetle goes his round follow now the beetles hum little wanderer hide the home on another's sorrow can I see another's woe and not be in sorrow too can I see another's grief and not seek for kind relief can I see a falling tear and not feel my sorrow share can a father see his child weep nor be with sorrow filled can a mother sit and hear an infant groan an infant fear no no never can it be never never can it be and can he who smiles on all hear the wren with sorrows small hear the small birds grief and care hear the woes that infants bear and not sit beside the nest pouring pity in their breast and not sit the cradle near weeping tear on infants tear and not sit both night and day wiping all our tears away oh no never can it be never never can it be he doth give his joy to all he becomes an infant small he becomes a man of woe he doth feel the sorrow too think not thou canst sigh a sigh and thy maker is not by think not thou canst weep a tear and thy maker is not near oh he gives to us his joy that our grief he may destroy till our grief is fled and gone he doth sit by us and moan end of songs of innocence recording by Thomas Copeland songs of experience from songs of innocence and songs of experience by William Blake this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Thomas Copeland introduction hear the voice of the Bard who present past and future sees whose ears have heard the holy word that walked among the ancient trees calling the lapsid soul and weeping in the evening dew that might control the starry pole and fallen fallen light renew oh earth oh earth return arise from out the dewy grass night is worn and the mourn rises from the slumbrous mass turn away no more why will thou turn away the starry floor the watery shore is given thee till the break of day earth's answer earth raised up her head from the darkness dread and drear her light fled stony dread and her locks covered with gray despair prisoned on watery shore starry jealousy does keep my den cold and whore weeping or I hear the father of the ancient men selfish father of men cruel jealous selfish fear can delight chained in night the virgins of youth and mourning bear does spring hide its joy when buds and blossoms grow does the sower so by night or the plowman in darkness plow break this heavy chain that does freeze my bones around selfish vain eternal bane that free love with bondage pound the Claude and the pebble 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 song a little Claude of clay trodden with the cattle's feet but a pebble of the brook who wobbled out these meters meet love seeketh only self to please to bind another to its delight joys and another's loss of ease and builds a hell in heavens despite holy Thursday is this a holy thing to see in a rich and fruitful land babes reduced to misery fed with cold and usurious hand is that trembling cry a song can it be a song of joy and so many children poor it is a land of poverty and their son does never shine and their fields are bleak and bare and their ways are filled with thorns it is eternal winter there for where air the sun does shine and where air the rain does fall babe can never hunger there nor poverty the mind of Paul the little girl lost in futurity I prophesy that the earth from sleep grave the sentence deep shall arise and seek for her maker meek and the desert wild become a garden mild in the southern climb where the summer's prime never fades away lovely like a lay seven summers oh lovely like a toad she had wandered long hearing wild bird song sweet sleep come to me underneath this tree do father mother weep where can like a sleep lost in desert wild is your little child how can like a sleep if her mother weep if her heart does a then let like a way if my mother sleep like a shall not weep frowning frowning night or this desert bright let thy moon arise while I close my eyes sleeping like a lay while the beasts of prey come from caverns deep viewed the maid asleep the kingly lion stood and the virgin viewed then he gambled round or the hallowed ground leopards tigers play round her as she lay while the lion old bowed his mane of gold and her bosom nick and upon her neck from his eyes of flame ruby tears there came while the lioness loosed her slender dress and naked they conveyed to caves the sleeping maid the little girl found all the night in woe like his parents go over valleys deep by the desert sweep tired and woe begun horse with making moan arm in arm seven days they traced the desert ways seven nights they sleep among shadows deep and dream they see their child starved in desert wild pale through pathless ways the fancied image strays famished weeping weak with hollow pitia shriek rising from unrest the trembling woman pressed with feet of weary woe she could no further go in his arms he bore her armed with sorrow soar till before their way a couching lion lay turning back was vain soon his heavy mane bore them to the ground then he stalked around smelling to his prey but their fears a lay when he licks their hands and silent by them stands they look upon his eyes filled with deep surprise and wondering behold a spirit armed in gold on his head a crown on his shoulders down flowed his golden hair gone was all their care follow me he said weep not for the maid in my palace deep like our lies asleep then they followed where the vision led and saw their sleeping child among tigers wild to this day they dwell in a lonely dale nor fear the Woolvish howl nor the lion's growl the chimney sweeper a little black thing among the snow crying weep weep in notes of woe where are thy father and mother say they are both gone up to the church to pray because I was happy upon the heath and smiled among the winter snow they clothed me in the clothes of death and taught me to sing the notes of woe and because I am happy and dance and sing they think they have done me no injury and are gone to praise God and his priest and king who made up a heaven of our misery nurses song when the voices of children are heard on the green and whispers are in the dale the days of my youth rise fresh in my mind my face turns green and pale then come home my children the sun has gone down and the dews of night arise your spring and your day are wasted in play and your winter at night in disguise the sick rose oh rose thou art sick the invisible worm that flies in the night in the howling storm has found out thy bed of crimson joy and his dark secret love does thy life destroy the fly little fly thy summers play my thoughtless hand has brushed away and not I a fly like thee or art not thou a man like me for I dance and drink and sing till some blind hand shall brush my wing if thought is life and strength and breath and the want of thought is death then am I a happy fly if I live or if I die the angel I dream to dream what can it mean and that I was a maiden queen guarded by an angel mild witless woe was near beguiled and I wept both night and day and he wiped my tears away and I wept both day and night and hid from him my heart's delight so he took his wings and fled then the mourn blushed rosy red I dried my tears and armed my fears with ten thousand shields and spears soon my angel came again I was armed he came in vain for the time of youth was fled and gray hairs were on my head the tiger tiger tiger burning bright in the forests of the night what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry in what distant deeps or skies burnt the fire of thine eyes on what wings dare he aspire what the hand dare sees the fire and what shoulder and what arc could twist the sinews of thy heart and when thy heart began to beat what dread hand and what dread feet what the hammer what the chain in what furnace was thy brain what the anvil what dread grasp dare its deadly terrors clasp when the stars threw down their spears and watered heaven with their tears did he smile his work to see did he who made the lamb make the tiger tiger burning bright in the forests of the night what immortal hand or eye dare frame thy fearful symmetry my pretty rose tree a flower was offered to me such a flower as may never bore but I said I have a pretty rose tree and I passed the sweet flower or then I went to my pretty rose tree to tend her by day and by night but my rose turned away with jealousy and her thorns for my only delight our sunflower our sunflower weary of time who countest the steps of the Sun seeking after that sweet golden climb where the traveler's journey is done where the youth pined away with desire and the pale virgin shrouded in snow arise from their graves and aspire where my sunflower wishes to go the lily the modest rose puts forth a thorn the humble sheep a threatening horn while the lily white shall in love delight nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright the garden of love I went to the garden of love and saw what I never had seen a chapel was built in the midst where I used to play on the green and the gates of this chapel were shut and thou shalt not read over the door so I turned to the garden of love that so many sweet flowers bore and they saw it was filled with graves and tombstones where flowers should be and priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires the little vagabond dear mother dear mother the church is cold but the alehouse is healthy and pleasant and warm besides I can tell where I am used well such usage in heaven will never do well but if at the church they would give us some ale and a pleasant fire our souls to regale we'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day nor ever once wish from the church to stray then the parson might preach and drink and sing and we'd be as happy as birds in the spring and modest dame lurch who's always a church would not have bandied children nor fasting or birch and God like a father rejoicing to see his children as pleasant and happy as he would have no more quarrel with the devil or the barrel but kiss him and give him both drink and apparel london I wander through each chartered street near where the chartered Thames does flow a mark in every face I meet marks of weakness marks of woe in every cry of every man in every infant's cry of fear in every voice in every ban the mindforged manacles I hear how the chimney sweepers cry every blackening church appalls and the hapless soldier sigh runs in blood down palace walls but most through midnight streets I hear how the youthful harlot's curse blasts the newborn infant's tear and blights with plagues the marriage hers the human abstract pity would be no more if we did not make somebody poor and mercy no more could be if all were as happy as we and mutual fear brings peace till the selfish loves increase then cruelty knits a snare and spreads his baits with care he sits down with holy fears and waters the ground with tears then humility takes its root underneath his foot soon spreads the dismal shade of mystery over his head and the caterpillar and fly feed on the mystery and it bears the fruit of deceit ruddy and sweet to eat and the raven his nest has made in its thickest shade the gods of the earth and sea sought through nature to find this tree but their search was all in vain there grows one in the human brain infant sorrow my mother groaned my father wept into the dangerous world I left helpless naked piping loud like a fiend hid in a cloud struggling in my father's hands striving against my swaddling bands bound and weary I thought best to suck upon my mother's breast a poison tree I was angry with my friend I told my wrath my wrath did end I was angry with my foe I told it not my wrath did grow and I watered it in fears night and morning with my tears and I sunned it with smiles and with soft deceitful wiles and it grew both day and tonight till it bore an apple bright and my foe beheld it shine and in you that it was mine and into my garden stole when the night had veiled the pole in the morning glad I see my foe outstretched beneath the tree a little boy lost not loves another as itself nor venerates another so nor is it possible to thought a greater than itself to know and father how can I love you or any of my brothers more I love you like the little bird that picks up crumbs around the door the priest sat by and hurt the child in trembling zeal he seized his hair he led him by his little coat and all admired his priestly care and standing on the altar high low what a fiend is here said he one who sets reason up for judge of our most holy mystery the weeping child could not be heard the weeping parents wept in vain they stripped him to his little shirt and bound him in an iron chain and burned him in a holy place where many had been burned before the weeping parents wept in vain all such things done on Albion's shore a little girl lost children of the future age reading this indignant page know that in a former time love sweet love was thought a crime in the age of gold free from winter's cold youth and maiden bright to the holy light naked in the sunny beams delight once a youthful pair filled with softest care met in garden bright where the holy light had just removed the curtains of the night there in rising day on the grass they play parents were far strangers came not near and the maiden soon forgot her fear tired with kisses sweet they agree to meet when the silent sleep waves or heavens deep and the weary tired wanderers weep to her father white came the maiden bright but his loving look like the holy book all her tender limbs with terror show oh no pale and weak to thy father speak oh the trembling fear oh the dismal care that shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair a divine image cruelty has a human heart and jealousy a human face terror the human form divine and secrecy the human dress the human dress is forged iron the human form a fiery forge the human face a furnace sealed the human heart it's hungry gorge a cradle song sleep sleep beauty bright dreaming in the joys of night sleep sleep in thy sleep little sorrows sit and weep sweet babe in thy face soft desires i can trace secret joys and secret smiles little pretty infant wiles as thy softest limbs i feel smiles as of the morning steel or thy cheek and or thy breast where thy little heart does rest oh the cunning wiles that creep in thy little heart asleep when thy little heart does wake then the dreadful light shall break the schoolboy i love to rise in a summer morn when the bird sing on every tree the distant huntsman winds his horn and the skylark sings with me oh what sweet company but to go to school in a summer morn oh it drives all joy away under a cruel eye i'll warn the little one spend the day in sighing and dismay ah then at times i drooping sit and spend many an anxious hour nor in my book can i take delight nor sit in learning's bower worn through with the dreary shower how can the bird that is born for joy sit in a cage and sing how can a child when fears annoy but droop his tender wing and forget his youthful spring oh father and mother if buds are nipped and blossoms blown away and if the tender plants are stripped of their joy in the springing day by sorrow and cares dismay how shall the summer rise in joy or the summer fruits appear or how shall we gather what griefs destroy or bless the mellowing year when the blasts of winter appear to tears up what air is born of mortal birth must be consumed with the earth to rise from generation free then what have i to do with thee the sexes sprung from shame and pride blowed in the morn in evening died but mercy changed a death into sleep the sexes rose to work and weep thou mother of my mortal part with cruelty ditched mold my heart and with false self-deceiving tears ditched blind my nostrils eyes and ears ditched close my tongue in senseless clay and me to mortal life betray the death of jesus set me free then what have i to do with thee the voice of the ancient bard youth of delight come hither and see the opening mourn image of truth newborn doubt is fled and clouds of reason dark disputes and artful teason folly is an endless maze tangled roots perplex her ways how many have fallen there they stumble all night over bones of the dead and feel they know not what but care and wish to lead others when they should be led end of the songs of experience end of the songs of innocence and the songs of experience by william blake recording by thomas copeland