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Rudyard Kipling
Edgar Allan Poe
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WILLIAM BLAKE: Song
You are here: Home » British/American Poets » William Blake » Song
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 show’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 seat 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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