Page:Shelley, a poem, with other writings (Thomson, Debell).djvu/146

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128
THE POEMS OF WILLIAM BLAKE.


He came to the desert of London town,
 Grey miles long;
He wandered up and he wandered down,
 Singing a quiet song.

He came to the desert of London town,
 Mirk miles broad;
He wandered up and he wandered down,
 Ever alone with God.

There were thousands and thousands of human kind
 In this desert of brick and stone:
But some were deaf and some were blind,
 And he was there alone.

At length the good hour came; he died,
 As he had lived, alone:
He was not missed from the desert wide,
 Perhaps he was found at the Throne.


1865.




CHISWICK PRESS:—C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT,
CHANCERY LANE.