Poems of 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 cheer."Piper, pipe that song again;"So I piped: he wept to hear."Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;Sing thy songs of happy cheer!"So I sang the same again,While he wept with joy to hear."Piper, sit thee down and writeIn 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 songsEvery child may joy to hear.