The sun descending in the west, <br />The evening star does shine; <br />The birds are silent in their nest, <br />And I must seek for mine. <br /> The moon, like a flower, <br /> In heaven's high bower, <br /> With silent delight <br /> Sits and smiles on the night. <br /> <br />Farewell, green fields and happy groves, <br />Where flocks have took delight. <br />Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves <br />The feet of angels bright; <br /> Unseen they pour blessing, <br /> And joy without ceasing, <br /> On each bud and blossom, <br /> And each sleeping bosom. <br /> <br />They look in every thoughtless nest, <br />Where birds are covered warm; <br />They visit caves of every beast, <br />To keep them all from harm. <br /> If they see any weeping <br /> That should have been sleeping, <br /> They pour sleep on their head, <br /> And sit down by their bed. <br /> <br />When wolves and tigers howl for prey, <br />They pitying stand and weep; <br />Seeking to drive their thirst away, <br />And keep them from the sheep. <br /> But if they rush dreadful, <br /> The angels, most heedful, <br /> Receive each mild spirit, <br /> New worlds to inherit. <br /> <br />And there the lion's ruddy eyes <br />Shall flow with tears of gold, <br />And pitying the tender cries, <br />And walking round the fold, <br /> Saying, 'Wrath, by His meekness, <br /> And, by His health, sickness <br /> Is driven away <br /> From our immortal day. <br /> <br />'And now beside thee, bleating lamb, <br />I can lie down and sleep; <br />Or think on Him who bore thy name, <br />Graze after thee and weep. <br /> For, washed in life's river, <br /> My bright mane for ever <br /> Shall shine like the gold <br /> As I guard o'er the fold.'<br /><br />William Blake<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night/
