William Blake

SONGS OF INNOCENCE
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The Little Girl Found

 All the night in woe
 Lyca's parents go
 Over vallies deep.
 While the desarts weep.
 
 Tired and woe-begone.
 Hoarse with making moan,
 Arm in arm seven days
 They trac'd the desart ways.
 
 Seven nights they sleep
 Among shadows deep.
 And dream they see their child
 Starv'd in desart wild.
 
 Pale, thro' pathless ways
 The fancied image strays
 
 Famish'd, weeping, weak,
 With hollow piteous shriek.
 
 Rising from unrest,
 The trembling woman prest
 With feel of weary woe:
 She could no further go.
 
 In his arms he bore
 Her, arm'd with sorrow sore;
 Till before their way
 A couching lion lay.
 
 Turning back was vain:
 Soon his heavy mane
 Bore them to the ground.
 Then he stalk'd around.
 
 Smelling to his prey;
 But their fears allay
 When he licks their hands,
 And silent by them stands.
 
 Tbey look upon his eyes
 Fill'd with deep surprise;
 And wondering behold
 A Spirit arm'd in gold.
 
 On his head a crown;
 On his shoulders down
 Flow'd his golden hair.
 Gone was all their care.
 
 "Follow me." he said;
 "Weep not for the maid;
 In my palace deep
 Lyca lies asleep."
 
 Then they followed
 Where the vision led,
 And saw their sleeping child
 Among tygers wild.
 
 Tn this day they dwell
 In a lonely dell;
 Nor fear the wolvish howl
 Nor the lions' growl.