Page:Life of William Blake 2, Gilchrist.djvu/172

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118
SELECTIONS FROM BLAKE'S WRITINGS.

To a lovely myrtle bound,
Blossoms showering all around,
O how weak and weary I
Underneath my myrtle lie!


Why should I be bound to thee,
O my lovely myrtle tree?
Love, free love, cannot be bound
To any tree that grows on ground.