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William Blake - The Garden of LoveWilliam Blake - The Garden of Love
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I laid me down upon a bank,   Where Love lay sleeping; I heard among the rushes dank   Weeping, weeping. Then I went to the heath and the wild,   To the thistles and thorns of the waste; And they told me how they were beguiled,   Driven out, and compelled to the chaste. 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 Chapel were shut   And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love   That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves,   And tombstones where flowers should be; And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,   And binding with briars my joys and desires.
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