SLEEP, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.
O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break.
About the poet |
William Blake |
By the same poet |
The Tiger |
To Spring |
The Little Black Boy |
Song |
Reeds of Innocence |
To the Muses |
Hear the Voice |
Night |
Love's Secret |
Related books |
William Blake at amazon.co.uk |