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                         To see a World in a Grain of Sand
                         And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
                         Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
                         And Eternity in an hour.

                         A Robin Red breast in a Cage
                         Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
                         A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons
                         Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
                         A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
                         Predicts the ruin of the State.
                         A Horse misus'd upon the Road
                         Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
                         Each outcry of the hunted Hare
                         A fibre from the Brain does tear.
                         A Skylark wounded in the wing,
                         A Cherubim does cease to sing.
                         The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight
                         Does the Rising Sun affright.
                         Every Wolf's & Lion's howl
                         Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
                         The wild deer, wand'ring here & there,
                         Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
                         The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife
                         And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
                         The Bat that flits at close of Eve
                         Has left the Brain that won't believe.
                         The Owl that calls upon the Night
                         Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
                         He who shall hurt the little Wren
                         Shall never be belov'd by Men.
                         He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd
                         Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
                         The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
                         Shall feel the Spider's enmity.
                         He who torments the Chafer's sprite
                         Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
                         The Catterpillar on the Leaf
                         Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief.
                         Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
                         For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
                         He who shall train the Horse to War
                         Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
                         The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat,
                         Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.
                         The Gnat that sings his Summer's song
                         Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
                         The poison of the Snake & Newt
                         Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
                         The poison of the Honey Bee
                         Is the Artist's Jealousy.
                         The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags
                         Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.
                         A truth that's told with bad intent
                         Beats all the Lies you can invent.
                         It is right it should be so;
                         Man was made for Joy & Woe;
                         And when this we rightly know
                         Thro' the World we safely go.
                         Joy & Woe are woven fine,
                         A Clothing for the Soul divine;
                         Under every grief & pine
                         Runs a joy with silken twine.
                         The Babe is more than swadling Bands;
                         Throughout all these Human Lands
                         Tools were made, & born were hands,
                         Every Farmer Understands.
                         Every Tear from Every Eye
                         Becomes a Babe in Eternity.
                         This is caught by Females bright
                         And return'd to its own delight.
                         The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar
                         Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.
                         The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
                         Writes Revenge in realms of death.
                         The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,
                         Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
                         The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun,
                         Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.
                         The poor Man's Farthing is worth more
                         Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore.
                         One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands
                         Shall buy & sell the Miser's lands:
                         Or, if protected from on high,
                         Does that whole Nation sell & buy.
                         He who mocks the Infant's Faith
                         Shall be mock'd in Age & Death.
                         He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
                         The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.
                         He who respects the Infant's faith
                         Triumph's over Hell & Death.
                         The Child's Toys & the Old Man's Reasons
                         Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.
                         The Questioner, who sits so sly,
                         Shall never know how to Reply.
                         He who replies to words of Doubt
                         Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
                         The Strongest Poison ever known
                         Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
                         Nought can deform the Human Race
                         Like the Armour's iron brace.
                         When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
                         To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
                         A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry
                         Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
                         The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile
                         Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
                         He who Doubts from what he sees
                         Will ne'er believe, do what you Please.
                         If the Sun & Moon should doubt
                         They'd immediately Go out.
                         To be in a Passion you Good may do,
                         But no Good if a Passion is in you.
                         The Whore & Gambler, by the State
                         Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
                         The Harlot's cry from Street to Street
                         Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet.
                         The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse,
                         Dance before dead England's Hearse.
                         Every Night & every Morn
                         Some to Misery are Born.
                         Every Morn & every Night
                         Some are Born to sweet Delight.
                         Some ar Born to sweet Delight,
                         Some are born to Endless Night.
                         We are led to Believe a Lie
                         When we see not Thro' the Eye
                         Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night
                         When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.
                         God Appears & God is Light
                         To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night,
                         But does a Human Form Display
                         To those who Dwell in Realms of day.

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