Page:Life of William Blake, Pictor ignotus (Volume 2).djvu/22

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and harmony combine And around our souls entwine, While thy branches mix with mine And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit, Chirping loud and singing sweet; Like gentle streams beneath our feet, Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear, I am clad in flowers fair; Thy sweet boughs perfume the air, And the turtle buildeth there.

There she sits and feeds her young; Sweet I hear her mournful song: And thy lovely leaves among, There is Love: I hear his tongue.

There his charm'd nest he doth lay, There he sleeps the night away, There he sports along the day, And doth among our branches play.