The Garden of Love

Willia, Blake(1757- 1828)

 

 

I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen;

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used  to play on the green.

And the gates on this Chapel were shut,

And "Though shalt not" write over the door

So I turned to the Garden of Love

That so many sweet flowers bore;

 

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And priests in black downs

were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars my joys and desires.