And now beside thee, bleating lamb, Or think on Him who bore thy name, For, washed in life's river, [From Songs of Experience.] AH, SUNFLOWER. Ah, Sunflower, weary of time, Where the youth pined away with desire, THE TIGER. Tiger, tiger, burning bright In what distant deeps or skies And what shoulder, and what art, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? When the stars threw down their spears, Did He who made the lamb, make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, THE ANGEL. I dreamt a dream! What can it mean? And I wept both night and day, So he took his wings and fled; I dried my tears and armed my fears Soon my angel came again: I was armed, he came in vain ; |