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William Blake - Song: Memory, hither come
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Memory, hither come, 
        And tune your merry notes;
    And, while upon the wind
        Your music floats,

    I`ll pore upon the stream
        Where sighing lovers dream,
    And fish for fancies as they pass
        Within the watery glass.

    I`ll drink of the clear stream,
       And hear the linnet`s song;
   And there I`ll lie and dream
       The day along:

   And, when night comes, I`ll go
       To places fit for woe,
   Walking along the darken`d valley
       With silent Melancholy.
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