Nature and Elements

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union.

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; This is not done by jostling in the street.

He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be belov’d by men.

A dog starv’d at his master’s gate Predicts the ruin of the state.

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 redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage.

What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears And water’d heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?

Little Fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.

O Rose, thou art sick. The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.

Turn away no more. Why wilt thou turn away? The starry floor, The wat’ry shore Is giv’n thee till the break of day.

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? Or Love in a golden bowl?

The moon like a flower In heaven’s high bower, With silent delight, Sits and smiles on the night.

Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee, Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb. He is meek and he is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by his name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee!

Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life and bid thee feed By the stream and o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright.

How sweet I roam’d from field to field, And tasted all the summer’s pride, Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!

O’er all the hilltops Is quiet now, In all the treetops Hearest thou Hardly a breath; The birds are asleep in the trees: Wait; soon like these Thou too shalt rest. 16

Knowst thou the land where the lemon trees bloom, 4 Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket’s gloom, Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose?

I sing as the bird sings That lives in the boughs. 2

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.

God made the country, and man made the town.

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm.