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< Theme 8. Love and Courtship (xviii) >

William Blake

< Song >

 
Poetical Sketches (1783, 26)

How sweet I roam’d from field to field,
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide.

He shew’d me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir’d my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.

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