William Blake (1757–1827)

HEAR the voice of the Bard!

Who Present, Past, and Future, sees;

Whose ears have heard

The Holy Word

That walk’d among the ancient trees,

Calling the lapsèd Soul,

And weeping in the evening dew;

That might control

The starry pole,

And fallen fallen light renew!

‘O Earth, O Earth, return!

Arise from out the dewy grass;

Night is worn,

And the morn

Rises from the slumberous mass.

‘Turn away no more;

Why wilt thou turn away?

The starry floor,

The watery shore,

Is given thee till the break of day.’