Sunday, April 20, 2008

  • The Garden of Love

    --by William Blake, from his "Songs of Experience"

    The Garden of Love

    I went to the Garden of Love,
    And saw what I never had seen;
    A Chapel was built in the midst,
    Where I used to play on the green.

    And the gates of this Chapel were shut
    And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
    So I turned to the Garden of Love
    That so many sweet flowers bore.

    And I saw it was filled with graves,
    And tombstones where flowers should be;
    And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
    And binding with briars my joys and desires. 

    gardenoflove

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