Page:Life of William Blake, Pictor ignotus (Volume 2).djvu/119

102 {|align="center" 23. The trees bring forth sweet ecstacy To all who in the desert roam; Till many a city there is built, And many a pleasant shepherd's home. 24. But when they find the frowning babe, Terror strikes through the region wide: They cry—'the babe—the babe is born!' And flee away on every side. 25. For who dare touch the frowning form, His arm is withered to its root: Bears, lions, wolves, all howling flee, And every tree doth shed its fruit. 26. And none can touch that frowning form Except it be a woman old; She nails it down upon the rock, And all is done as I have told.
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