The evening star does shine,
The Birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon like a flower
In heavens high Bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
---
"And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep,
For, washed in life's river,
My bright mane forever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o'er the fold."
-- William Blake
