Never seek to tell thy love

Love that never told can be;

For the gentle wind does move

Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,

I told her all my heart,

Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears—

Ah, she doth depart.

Soon as she was gone from me

A traveller came by

Silently, invisibly—

0, was no deny.

I laid me down upon a bank

Where love lay sleeping.

I heard among the rushes dank

Weeping, Weeping.

Then I went to the heath & the wild

To the thistles & thorns of the waste

And they told me how they were beguil’d,

Driven out, & compel’d to be chaste.

I saw a chapel all of gold

That none did dare to enter in,

And many weeping stood without,

Weeping, mourning, worshipping.

I saw a serpent rise between

The white pillars of the door,

And he forc’d & forc’d & forc’d,

Down the golden hinges tore.

And along the pavement sweet,

Set with pearls & rubies bright,

All his slimy length he drew,

Till upon the altar white

Vomiting his poison out

On the bread & on the wine.

So I turn’d into a sty

And laid me down among the swine.

I asked a thief to steal me a peach:

He turned up his eyes.

I ask’d a lithe lady to lie her down:

Holy & meek she cries.

As soon as I went an angel came:

He wink’d at the thief

And smil’d at the dame,

And without one word spoke

Had a peach from the tree,

And ’twixt earnest & joke

Enjoy’d the Lady.

I heard an Angel singing

When the day was springing,

“Mercy, Pity, Peace

Is the world’s release.”

Thus he sung all day

Over the new mown hay,

Till the sun went down

And haycocks looked brown.

I heard a Devil curse

Over the heath & the furze,

“Mercy could be no more,

If there was nobody poor,

“And pity no more could be,

If all were as happy as we.”

At his curse the sun went down,

And the heavens gave a frown.

Down pour’d the heavy rain

Over the new reap’d grain,

And Miseries’ increase

Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.

A CRADLE SONG

Sleep, Sleep, beauty bright

Dreaming o’er the joys of night.

Sleep, Sleep: in thy sleep

Little sorrows sit & weep.

Sweet Babe, in thy face

Soft desires I can trace

Secret joys & secret smiles

Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel

Smiles as of the morning steal

O‘er thy cheek & o’er thy breast

Where thy little heart does rest.

O, the cunning wiles that creep

In thy little heart asleep.

When thy little heart does wake,

Then the dreadful lightnings break.

From thy cheek & from thy eye

O’er the youthful harvests nigh

Infant wiles & infant smiles

Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles.

I fear’d the fury of my wind

Would blight all blossoms fair & true;

And my sun it shin’d & shin’d

And my wind it never blew.

But a blossom fair or true

Was not found on any tree;

For all blossoms grew & grew

Fruitless, false, tho’ fair to see.

Why should I care for the men of thames,

Or the cheating waves of charter’d streams,

Or shrink at the little blasts of fear

That the hireling blows into my ear?

Tho’ born on the cheating banks of Thames,

Tho’ his waters bathed my infant limbs,

The Ohio shall wash his stains from me:

I was born a slave, but I go to be free.

INFANT SORROW

My mother groan’d, my father wept;

Into the dangerous world I leapt,

Helpless, naked, piping loud,

Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father’s hands

Striving against my swaddling bands,

Bound & weary, I thought best

To sulk upon my mother’s breast.

When I saw that rage was vain,

And to sulk would nothing gain,

Turning many a trick & wile,

I began to soothe & smile.

And I sooth’d day after day

Till upon the ground I stray;

And I smil’d night after night,

Seeking only for delight.

And I saw before me shine

Clusters of the wand’ring vine,

And many a lovely flower & tree

Streteh’d their blossoms out to me.

My father then with holy look,

In his hands a holy book,

Pronounc’d curses on my head

And bound me in a mirtle shade.

IN A MIRTLE SHADE

Why should I be bound to thee,

O my lovely mirtle tree?

Love, free love, cannot be bound

To any tree that grows on ground.

0, how sick & weary I

Underneath my mirtle lie,

Like to dung upon the ground

Underneath my mirtle bound.

Oft my mirtle sigh’d in vain

To behold my heavy chain;

Oft my father saw us sigh,

And laugh’d at our simplicity.

So I smote him & his gore

Stain’d the roots my mirtle bore.

But the time of youth is Bed,

And grey hairs are on my head.

Silent, Silent Night

Quench the holy light

Of thy torches bright.

For possess’d of Day

Thousand spirits stray

That sweet joys betray

Why should joys be sweet

Used with deceit

Nor with sorrows meet?

But an honest joy

Does itself destroy

For a harlot coy.

0 lapwing, thou fliest around the heath,

Nor seest the net that is spread beneath.

Why dost thou not fly among the corn fields?

They cannot spread nets where a harvest yields.

Thou hast a lap full of seed,

And this is a fine country.

Why dost thou not cast thy seed

And live in it merrily?

Shall I cast it on the sand

And turn it into fruitful land?

For on no other ground

Can I sow my seed

Without tearing up

Some stinking weed.

TO NOBODADDY

Why art thou silent & invisible,

Father of Jealousy?

Why dost thou hide thy self in clouds

From every searching Eye?

Why darkness & obscurity

In all thy words & laws,

That none dare eat the fruit but from

The wily serpent’s jaws? ,

Or is it because Secresy gains females’ loud applause?

Are not the joys of morning sweeter

Than the joys of night?

And are the vig’rous joys of youth

Ashamed of the light?

Let age & sickness silent rob

The vineyards in the night;

But those who burn with vig’rous youth

Pluck fruits before the light.

Love to faults is always blind,

Always is to joy inclin‘d,

Lawless, wing’d, & unconfin’d,

And breaks all chains from every mind.

Deceit to secresy confin’d,

Lawful, cautious, & refin’d;

To every thing but interest blind,

And forges fetters for the mind.

THE WILD FLOWER’S SONG

As I wander’d the forest,

The green leaves among,

I heard a wild flower

Singing a song:

“I slept in the dark

In the silent night,

I murmur’d my fears

And I felt delight.

“In the morning I went

As rosy as morn

To seek for new Joy,

But I met with scorn.”

SOFT SNOW

I walked abroad in a snowy day:

I ask’d the soft snow with me to play:

She play’d & she melted in all her prime,

And the winter call’d it a dreadful crime.

AN ANCIENT PROVERB

Remove away that black’ning church:

Remove away that marriage hearse:

Remove away that place of blood:

You’ll quite remove the ancient curse.

TO MY MIRTLE

To a lovely mirtle bound,

Blossoms show’ring all around,

0, how sick & weary I

Underneath my mirtle lie.

Why should I be bound to thee,

0, my lovely mirtle tree?

MERLIN’S PROPHECY

The harvest shall flourish in wintry weather

When two virginities meet together:

The King & the Priest must be tied in a tether

Before two virgins can meet together.

DAY

The Sun arises in the East,

Cloth’d in robes of blood & gold;

Swords & spears & wrath increast

All around his bosom roll’d,

Crown’d with warlike fires & raging desires.

THE MARRIAGE RING

“Come hither my sparrows,

My little arrows.

If a tear or a smile

Will a man beguile,

If an amorous delay

Clouds a sunshiny day,

If the step of a foot

Smites the heart to its root,

’Tis the marriage ring

Makes each fairy a king.”

So a fairy sung.

From the leaves I sprung.

He leap’d from the spray

To flee away.

But in my hat caught

He soon shall be taught.

Let him laugh, let him cry,

He’s my butterfly;

For I’ve pull’d out the sting

Of the marriage ring.

The sword sung on the barren heath,

The sickle in the fruitful field:

The sword he sung a song of death,

But could not make the sickle yield.

Abstinence sows sand all over

The ruddy limbs & flaming hair,

But Desire Gratified

Plants fruits of life & beauty there.

In a wife I would desire

What in whores is always found—

The lineaments of Gratified desire.

If you trap the moment before it’s ripe,

The tears of repentence you’ll certainly wipe;

But if once you let the ripe moment go

You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

ETERNITY

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy;

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sun rise.

THE QUESTION ANSWER’S

What is it men in women do require?

The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

What is it women do in men require?

The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

LACEDEMONIAN INSTRUCTION

“Come hither, my boy, tell me what thou seest there.”

“A fool tangled in a religious snare.”

RICHES

The countless gold of a merry heart,

The rubies & pearls of a loving eye,

The indolent never can bring to the mart,

Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.

AN ANSWER TO THE PARSON

“Why of the sheep do you not learn peace?”

“Because I don’t want you to shear my fleece.”

The look of love alarms

Because ’tis fill’d with fire;

But the look of soft deceit

Shall win the lover’s hire.

Which are beauties sweetest dress?

Soft deceit & idleness,

These are beauties sweetest dress.

MOTTO TO THE SONGS OF INNOCENCE & OF EXPERIENCE

The Good are attracted by Men’s perceptions,

And think not for themselves;

Till Experience teaches them to catch

And to cage the Fairies & Elves.

And then the Knave begins to snarl

And the Hypocrite to howl;

And all his good Friends shew their private ends,

And the Eagle is known from the Owl.

Her whole Life is an Epigram, smart, smooth, & neatly

pen’d,

Platted quite neat to catch applause with a sliding noose

at the end.

An old maid early—e‘er I knew

Ought but the love that on me grew;

And now I’m cover’d o’er & o’er

And wish that I had been a whore.

0, I cannot, cannot find

The undaunted courage of a Virgin Mind,

For Early I in love was crost,

Before my flower of love was lost.

“Let the Brothels of Paris be opened

With many an alluring dance

To awake the Pestilence thro’ the city,”

Said the beautiful Queen of France.

The King awoke on his couch of gold,

As soon as he heard these tidings told:

“Arise & come, both fife & drum,

And the Famine shall eat both crust & crumb.”

Then he swore a great & solemn Oath:

“To kill the people I am loth,

But If they rebel, they must go to hell:

They shall have a Priest & a passing bell.”

Then old Nobodaddy aloft

Farted & belch’d & cough’d,

And said, “I love hanging & drawing & quartering

Every bit as well as war & slaughtering.

Damn praying & singing,

Unless they will bring in

The blood of ten thousand by fighting qr swinging.”

The Queen of France just touched this Globe,

And the Pestilence darted from her robe;

But our good Queen quite grows to the ground,

And a great many suckers grow all around.

Fayette beside King Lewis stood;

He saw him sign his hand;

And soon he saw the famine rage

About the fruitful land.

Fayette beheld the Queen to smile

And wink her lovely eye;

And soon he saw the pestilence

From street to street to fly.

Fayette beheld the King & Queen

In tears & iron bound;

But mute Fayette wept tear for tear,

And guarded them around.

Fayette, Fayette, thou’rt bought & sold,

And sold is thy happy morrow;

Thou gavest the tears of Pity away

In exchange for the tears of sorrow.

Who will exchange his own fire side

For the steps of another’s door?

Who will exchange his wheaten loaf

For the links of a dungeon floor?

0, who would smile on the wintry seas,

& Pity the stormy roar?

Or who will exchange his new born child

For the dog at the wintry door?

A fairy leapt upon my knee

Singing & dancing merrily;

I said, “Thou thing of patches, rings,

Pins, Necklaces, & such like things,

Disguiser of the Female Form,

Thou paltry, gilded, poisonous worml”

Weeping, he fell upon my thigh,

And thus in tears did soft reply:

“Knowest thou not, 0 Fairies’ Lord!

How much by us Contemn’d, Abhorr’d,

Whatever hides the Female form

That cannot bear the Mental storm?

Therefore in Pity still we give

Our lives to make the Female live;

And what would turn into disease

We turn to what will joy & please.”

LINES FOR THE ILLUSTRATIONS TO GRAY’S POEMS

Around the Springs of Gray my wild root weaves.

Traveller repose & Dream among my leaves.

TO MRS. ANNA FLAXMAN

A little Flower grew in a lonely Vale.

Its form was lovely but its colours pale.

One standing in the Porches of the Sun,

When his Meridian Glories were begun,

Leap’d from the steps of fire & on the grass

Alighted where this little flower was.

With hands divine he mov’d the gentle. Sod

And took the Flower up in its native Clod;

Then planting it upon a Mountain’s brow—

“ ’Tis your own fault if you don’t flourish now.”