Jan. 18th, 2012

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 A Little Girl Lost
 
Children of the future age,

Reading this indignant page,

Know that in a former time

Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
 
In the age of gold,

Free from winter's cold,

Youth and maiden bright,

To the holy light,

Naked in the sunny beams delight.
 
Once a youthful pair,

Filled with softest care,

Met in garden bright

Where the holy light

Had just removed the curtains of the night.
 
Then, in rising day,

On the grass they play;

Parents were afar,

Strangers came not near,

And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
 
Tired with kisses sweet,

They agree to meet

When the silent sleep

Waves o'er heaven's deep,

And the weary tired wanderers weep.
 
To her father white

Came the maiden bright;

But his loving look,

Like the holy book

All her tender limbs with terror shook.
 
"Ona, pale and weak,

To thy father speak!

Oh the trembling fear!

Oh the dismal care

That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!"
 
William Blake
 

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