Poems of William Blake | Page 7

and like a parting cloud,

Like a reflection in a glass: like shadows in the water
Like dreams of infants, like a
smile upon an infants face.
Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air:
Ah! gentle may I lay me down and gentle rest my head.
And gentle sleep the sleep of
death, and gently hear the voice Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time.
The Lilly of the valley breathing in the humble grass
Answerd the lovely maid and said:
I am a watry weed,
And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales:
So weak
the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head
Yet I am visited from heaven and he that
smiles on all
Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads his hand Saying,
rejoice thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower. Thou gentle maid of silent valleys
and of modest brooks:
For thou shall be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna:
Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs To flourish in eternal
vales: they why should Thel complain. Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter
a sigh.
She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.
Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley.
Giving to those that cannot
crave, the voiceless, the o'er tired The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells

the milky garments He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face, Wiping his
mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints. Thy wine doth purify the golden
honey; thy perfume.
Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs
Revives the milked cow, & tames the fire-breathing steed.
But Thel is like a faint cloud
kindled at the rising sun:
I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place.
Queen of the vales the Lily answered, ask the tender cloud, And it shall tell thee why it
glitters in the morning sky.
And why it scatters its bright beauty thro the humid air.

Descend O little cloud & hover before the eyes of Thel.
The Cloud descended and the Lily bowd her modest head:
And went to mind her
numerous charge among the verdant grass.
II.
O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me
Why thou complainest now when
in one hour thou fade away:
Then we shall seek thee but not find: ah Thel is like to thee.
I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.
The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg'd. Hovering and
glittering on the air before the face of Thel.
O virgin know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs Where Luvah doth renew
his horses: lookst thou on my youth. And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no
more.
Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away.
It is to tenfold life, to
love, to peace, and raptures holy: Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy
flowers: And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent The weeping virgin,
trembling kneels before the risen sun.
Till we arise link'd in a golden band and never
part:
But walk united bearing food to all our tender flowers.
Dost thou O little cloud? I fear that I am not like thee:
For I walk through the vales of
Har, and smell the sweetest flowers: But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling
birds, But I feed not the warbling birds, they fly and seek their food: But Thel delights in
these no more because I fade away
And all shall say, without a use this shining women
liv'd,
Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms.
The Cloud reclind upon his airy throne and answerd thus.
Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies,
How great thy use, how great
thy blessing, every thing that lives. Lives not alone nor or itself: fear not and I will call,

The weak worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice. Come forth worm and
the silent valley, to thy pensive queen.
The helpless worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,
And the bright Cloud saild on, to
find his partner in the vale.

III.
Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed.
Art thou a Worm? image of weakness. art thou but a Worm?
I see thee like an infant
wrapped in the Lillys leaf;
Ah weep not little voice, thou can'st not speak, but thou
can'st weep: Is this a Worm? I see they lay helpless & naked: weeping
And none to
answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles.
The Clod of Clay heard the Worms voice & rais'd