Kerri (solan_t) wrote,

When you see this, post poetry on your journal.

The Clod and the Pebble by William Blake

Love seeketh not itself to please
Nor for itself hath any care.
But for another gives its ease
And makes a Heaven in Hell's despair.

So sang a little clod of clay
Trodden with the cattles' feet
When a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres mete:

Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's lost of ease,
And makes a Hell in Heaven's despite!

(Typed from memory, please forgive any errors.)

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