When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee? - William Blake
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When the stars threw down their spears And watered heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
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.
How do you know but ev’ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos’d by your senses five?
He who would do good to another must do it in Minute Particulars; General Good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite and flatterer: For Art and Science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars.
