Holy Thursday: (From Songs of Experience)
HOLY THURSDAY
Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reduc’d to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!
And their sun does never shine,
And their fields are bleak & bare,
And their ways are fill’d with thorns:
It is eternal winter there.
For where-e’er the sun does shine,
And where-e’er the rain does fall,
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.
Chicago: William Blake, Holy Thursday: (From Songs of Experience) Original Sources, accessed April 24, 2024, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=96P6WZBLNV3G771.
MLA: Blake, William. Holy Thursday: (From Songs of Experience), Original Sources. 24 Apr. 2024. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=96P6WZBLNV3G771.
Harvard: Blake, W, Holy Thursday: (From Songs of Experience). Original Sources, retrieved 24 April 2024, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=96P6WZBLNV3G771.
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