Songs from ‘An Island in The Moon’
WHEN silver snow decks Susan’s c… And jewel hangs at th’ shepherd’s… The blushing bank is all my care, With hearth so red, and walls so f… ‘Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it…
I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, “Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world’s release.” Thus he sung all day
I will sing you a song of Los, th… He sung it to four harps, at the t… In heart-formèd Africa. Urizen faded! Ariston shudder’d! And thus the Song began:—
WHO is this, that with unerring step dares tempt the wilds, where only Nature’s foot hath trod? ’Tis Contemplation, daughter of the grey Morning! Majestical she steppeth, and with her p...
Sweet dreams form a shade, O’er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down.
“I have no name: I am but two days old.” What shall I call thee? “I happy am, Joy is my name.”
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 water’d it in fears,
Once a dream did weave a shade O’er my angel—guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way Where on grass methought I lay. Troubled, wildered and forlorn,
Sound the flute! Now it’s mute. Birds delight Day and night. Nightingale
Dear mother, dear mother, the chur… But the ale—house is healthy and p… Besides I can tell where I am use… Such usage in Heaven will never d… But if at the church they would gi…
[PLATE 3] The Guardian Prince of Albion bu… Sullen fires across the Atlantic… Piercing the souls of warlike men,… Washington, Franklin, Paine & Wa…
I LOVE the jocund dance, The softly breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, And where lisps the maiden’s tongu… I love the laughing vale,
FRESH from the dewy hill, the me… Smiles on my head and mounts his f… Round my young brows the laurel wr… And rising glories beam around my… My feet are wing’d, while o’er the…
My mother groan’d! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my father’s hands,
The modest Rose puts forth a thor… The humble sheep a threat’ning hor… While the Lily white shall in lov… Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her…