Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/135

 Rh NURSE'S SONG.

THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE.

OVE seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care;

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a heaven in hell's despair.

So sung a little clod of clay,

Trodden with the cattle's feet;

But a pebble of the brook

Warbled out these metres meet: