Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/165

  
"Mary moves in soft beauty and conscious delight,
To augment with sweet smiles all the joys of the night;
Nor once blushes to own to the rest of the fair
That sweet love and beauty are worthy our care."
 
In the morning the villagers rose with delight
And repeated with pleasure the joys of the night,
And Mary arose among friends to be free,
But no friend from henceforward thou, Mary, shalt see.
 
Some said she was proud; some call'd her a whore,
And some when she passed by, shut-to the door.
A damp cold came o'er her, her blushes all fled,
Her lilies and roses are blighted and shed.
 
"O, why was I born with a different face?
Why was I not born like this envious race?
Why did Heaven adorn me with bountiful hand,
And then set me down in an envious land?

"To be weak as a lamb and smooth as a dove,
And not to raise envy is call'd Christian love;
But if you raise envy your merit's to blame
For planting such spite in the weak and the tame.