The wild winds weep <br /> And the night is a-cold; <br />Come hither, Sleep, <br /> And my griefs infold: <br />But lo! the morning peeps <br /> Over the eastern steeps, <br />And the rustling birds of dawn <br />The earth do scorn. <br /> <br />Lo! to the vault <br /> Of paved heaven, <br />With sorrow fraught <br /> My notes are driven: <br />They strike the ear of night, <br /> Make weep the eyes of day; <br />They make mad the roaring winds, <br /> And with tempests play. <br /> <br />Like a fiend in a cloud, <br /> With howling woe, <br />After night I do crowd, <br /> And with night will go; <br />I turn my back to the east, <br />From whence comforts have increas'd; <br />For light doth seize my brain <br />With frantic pain.<br /><br />William Blake<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mad-song/
