William Blake (1757–1827). The Poetical Works. 1908.
Poetical SketchesSong: How sweet I roamd from field to field
H
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
Till I the Prince of Love beheld
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
And Phoebus fir’d my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.