Clod And The Pebble, The
William Blake
"Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a heaven in hell's despair." So sung a little clod of clay, Trodden with the cattle's feet; But a pebble of the brook Warbled out these meters meet: "Love seeketh only Self to please, To bind another to its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a hell in heaven's despite."
Next 10 Poems
- William Blake : Cradle Song
- William Blake : Crystal Cabinet, The
- William Blake : Divine Image, The
- William Blake : Earth's Answer
- William Blake : Echoing Green, The
- William Blake : England! Awake! Awake! Awake!
- William Blake : Eternity
- William Blake : Evening Star
- William Blake : Fair Elanor
- William Blake : Fly, The
Previous 10 Poems
- William Blake : Chimney-sweeper, The
- William Blake : Broken Love
- William Blake : Book Of Urizen, The ( Excerpts )
- William Blake : Book Of Thel, The
- William Blake : Blossom, The
- William Blake : Blind Man's Buff
- William Blake : Auguries Of Innocence
- William Blake : Angel, The
- William Blake : And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time
- William Blake : An Imitation Of Spenser