The Voice Of The Ancient Bard


William Blake

Youth of delight come hither:

And see the opening morn,

Image of truth new born.

Doubt is fled and clouds of reason.

Dark disputes and artful teazing.

Folly is an endless maze,

Tangled roots perplex her ways,

How many have fallen there!

They stumble all night over bones of the dead;

And feel they know not what but care;

And wish to lead others when they should be led.


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