Friday Poem

THE GARDEN OF LOVE: BY WILLIAM BLAKE
I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chepel were shut,

And "Thou shalt not" writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love

That so many sweet flowers bore;

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be;

And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,

And binding with brairs my joys & desires.

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