Verse > Anthologies > Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. > Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry
Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882).  Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry.  1880.
By William Blake (1757–1827)
“NOUGHT loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so;
Nor is it possible to thought,
A greater than itself to know.
“And, Father, how can I love you,        5
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.”
The Priest sat by, and heard the child:
In trembling zeal he seized his hair;        10
He led him by his little coat,
And all admired the priestly care.
And standing on the altar high,
“Lo, what a fiend is here!” said he,
“One who sets reason up for judge        15
Of our most holy Mystery.”
The weeping child could not be heard;
The weeping parents wept in vain;
They stript him to his little shirt,
And bound him in an iron chain;        20
And burned him in a holy place,
Where many had been burned before;
The weeping parents wept in vain:
Are such things done on Albion’s shore?

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