Love seeketh not Itself to please.
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease.
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.

     So sung a little Clod of Clay,
     Trodden with the cattle's feet;
     But a Pebble of the brook.
     Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight;
Joys in anothers loss of ease.
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

Added: on May 23rd, 2009 at 1:50 PM | Viewed: 4788 times | Comments (7)

Poet: William Blake
Poem: The Clod & The Pebble
Volume: Songs of Experience
Year: Published/Written in 1789
Poem of the Day on:
Jul 3 2007

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