W. Blake, The Human Abstract
Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody poor,
And mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
And mutual fear brings Peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody poor,
And mercy no more could be
If all were as happy as we.
And mutual fear brings Peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
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And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes it root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And caterpillar and fly
Feed on the Mystery.
Ruddy and sweet to eat,
And the raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The gods of the earth and sea
Sought through nature to find this tree,
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the human Brain.