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Poem by William Blake


To Spring


 О thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
 Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
 Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
 Which in full choir hails thy approach, О Spring!

 The hills tell each other, and the list'ning
 Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
 Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
 And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

 Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
 Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
 Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
 Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

 О deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
 Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
 Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
 Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.



William Blake


William Blake's other poems:
  1. To the Accuser Who Is the God of This World
  2. Eternity
  3. Epigram
  4. Songs of Experience. The Little Girl Found
  5. Songs of Experience. The Chimney Sweeper


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