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William Blake (1757–1827).  The Poetical Works.  1908.
 
Songs of Experience
Holy Thursday
 
IS 1 this a holy thing to see
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reduc’d to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
 
Is that trembling cry a song?        5
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!
 
And their sun does never shine,
And their fields are bleak and bare,        10
And their ways are fill’d with thorns:
It is eternal winter there.
 
For where’er the sun does shine,
And where’er the rain does fall,
Babe can never hunger there,        15
Nor poverty the mind appal.
 
Note 1. Holy Thursday] 7 And so great a number poor MS. 8, 12 It is] ’Tis MS. 13 For] But MS.< [back]
 
 
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