Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/39

 I'll pore upon the stream Where sighing lovers dream, And fish for fancies as they pass Within the watery glass. I'll drink of the clear stream
 * And hear the linnet's song,

And there I'll lie and dream
 * The day along:

And when night comes, I'll go To places fit for woe, Walking along the darken'd valley With silent Melancholy.

MAD SONG. HE wild winds weep, And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep,
 * And my griefs infold:

But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And the rustling beds of dawn The earth do scorn. Lo! to the vault
 * Of paved heaven,

With sorrow fraught
 * My notes are driven: