"Songs of Innocence" Quotes

A little black thing among the snow, Crying 'weep! 'weep! in notes of woe!

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee

And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear

Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?

And the bay was white with silent light, Till rising from the same

He doth give his joy to all, He becomes an infant small

And I plucked a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen

Till the little ones weary, No more can be merry

The birds of the bush, Sing louder around

I a child and thou a lamb, We are called by his name