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By William Blake

Piping down the valleys wild 

Piping songs of pleasant glee 

On a cloud I saw a child. 

And he laughing said to me. 


Pipe a song about a Lamb; 

So I piped with merry chear, 

Piper pipe that song again— 

So I piped, he wept to hear.


Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe 

Sing thy songs of happy chear, 

So I sung the same again 

While he wept with joy to hear 


Piper sit thee down and write

In a book that all may read— 

So he vanish’d from my sight. 

And I pluck’d a hollow reed. 


And I made a rural pen,

And I stain’d the water clear,

And I wrote my happy songs

Every child may joy to hear


Poet Bio

William Blake was born in London, where he spent most of his life working as an engraver and illustrator. At about age ten, Blake had his first vision: a tree filled with angels. Mysticism is one of the hallmarks of his work. While his poetry was not widely known during his lifetime, his writing and his art have continued to grow in popularity.

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