Poems of William Blake

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Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: Pipe a song about a Lamb! So I piped with merry cheer. Piper, pipe that song again; So I piped: he wept to hear. Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer! So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read. So he vanish'd from my sight; And I pluck'd a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

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