Poems of William Blake

 The chimney SWEEPER

 A little black thing in the snow,
 Crying “weep! weep!” in notes of woe! 
 “Where are thy father and mother?  Say!”—­
 “They are both gone up to the church to pray.

 “Because I was happy upon the heath,
 And smiled among the winter’s snow,
 They clothed me in the clothes of death,
 And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

 “And because I am happy and dance and sing,
 They think they have done me no injury,
 And are gone to praise God and his priest and king,
 Who make up a heaven of our misery.”