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!
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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
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