Guest poem submitted by Daniel Ma: Here's a submission in anticipation of the coming Holiday season.
(Poem #1405) The Lamb
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight; Softest clothing, wooly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb. He is meek, and he is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee!
From 'Songs of Innocence', 1789. Given the lurid fantasticism that we generally associate with Blake, here's a little gem that sparkles with simplicity and innocence. Place this in contrast, against, say, "The Tyger" (Minstrels Poem #66) I can never read these lines without strains of "Messiah" running through my head: "He shall feed His flock like a shepherd, and He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and gently lead those that are with young...". Daniel. [Minstrels Links] William Blake: Poem #26, Jerusalem Poem #66, The Tyger Poem #97, The Fly Poem #368, Auguries of Innocence Poem #546, The Sick Rose Poem #771, The Divine Image Poem #1087, A Poison Tree