William Blake

Song by a Shepherd

WELCOME, 1 stranger, to this place.  
Where joy doth sit on every bough,  
Paleness flies from every face;  
We reap not what we do not sow.  
 
Innocence doth like a rose          
Bloom on every maiden’s cheek;  
Honour twines around her brows,  
The jewel health adorns her neck.

Appendix to Poetical Sketches

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