Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/96

one another's necks alternately—like lilies, dropping
tears in each other's bosom, they stood by the
bed like reeds bending over a lake, when the evening
drops trickle down. His voice was low as the
whisperings of the woods when the wind is asleep,
and the visions of Heaven unfold their visitation.
"Parting is hard, and death is terrible; I seem to
"walk through a deep valley, far from the light of
"day, alone and comfortless! The damps of death
"fall thick upon me! Horrors stare me in the face!
"I look behind, there is no returning; Death follows
"after me; I walk in regions of Death, where no
"tree is; without a lantern to direct my steps,
"without a staff to support me."—Thus he laments
through the still evening, till the curtains of darkness
were drawn! Like the sound of a broken
pipe, the aged woman raised her voice. "O my
"son, my son, I know but little of the path thou
"goest! But lo, there is a God, who made the
"world; stretch out thy hand to Him." The
youth replied, like a voice heard from a sepulchre,
"My hand is feeble, how should I stretch it
"out? My ways are sinful, how should I raise mine
"eyes? My voice hath used deceit, how should I
"call on Him who is Truth? My breath is loathsome,
"how should He not be offended? If I lay
"my face in the dust, the grave opens its mouth
"for me; if I lift up my head, sin covers me as a
"cloak! O my dear friends, pray ye for me!