Nought loves another as itself
Nor venerates another so.
Nor is it possible to Thought
A greater than itself to know:
And Father, how can I love you,
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.
The Priest sat by and heard the child,
In trembling zeal he siez’d his hair:
He led him by his little coat:
And all admir’d his Priestly care.
And standing on the altar high,
Lo what a fiend is here! said he:
One who sets reason up for judge
Of our most holy Mystery.
The weeping child could not be heard,
The weeping parents wept in vain:
They strip’d him to his little shirt.
And bound him in an iron chain.
And burn’d him in a holy place.
Where many had been burn’d before:
The weeping parents wept in vain.
Are such things done on Albions shore.
(William Blake)
More Poetry from William Blake:
William Blake Poems based on Topics: Fathers, Hair, Place, Mystery- America, A Prophecy (William Blake Poems)
- A War Song to Englishmen (William Blake Poems)
- A Little Girl Lost (William Blake Poems)
- A Little Boy Lost (William Blake Poems)
- But in the Wine-presses the Human Grapes Sing not nor Dance (William Blake Poems)
- Devine Image (William Blake Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Place Poems, Fathers Poems, Hair Poems, Mystery PoemsBased on Keywords: sat, bound, weeping, loves, chain, holy, vain, led, bird, standing, possible