It is right it should be so: Man was made for joy and woe; And when this we rightly know Through the world we safely go. - William Blake

And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love,
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

Children of the future age
Reading this indignant page
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime