WILLIAM BLAKE
55 Night
E sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest. And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
Where flocks have took delight: Where lambs have nibbled, silent move The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing And joy without ceasing On each bud and blossom, On each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest Where birds are cover'd warm; They visit caves of every beast, To keep them all from harm: If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping, They pour sleep on their head, And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey, They pitying stand and weep,
Seeking to drive their thirst away And keep them from the sheep.
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