William Blake

O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
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O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer,
Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.

Tools were made and born with hands,
Every farmer understands.

Tools were made and born with hands,
Every farmer understands.

I have mental joys and mental health,
Mental friends and mental wealth,
I've a wife that I read more

I have mental joys and mental health,
Mental friends and mental wealth,
I've a wife that I love and that loves me;
I've all but riches bodily.

Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too. For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human read more

Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too. For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face, And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.

But to go to school in a summer morn,
Oh, it drives all joy away!
Under a read more

But to go to school in a summer morn,
Oh, it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day--
In sighing and dismay.