Page:Life of William Blake, Pictor ignotus (Volume 2).djvu/119

23.

The trees bring forth sweet ecstacy
⁠To all who in the desert roam;
Till many a city there is built,
⁠And many a pleasant shepherd's home.

24.

But when they find the frowning babe,
⁠Terror strikes through the region wide:
They cry—'the babe—the babe is born!'
⁠And flee away on every side.

25.

For who dare touch the frowning form,
⁠His arm is withered to its root:
Bears, lions, wolves, all howling flee,
⁠And every tree doth shed its fruit.

26.

And none can touch that frowning form
⁠Except it be a woman old;
She nails it down upon the rock,
⁠And all is done as I have told.