Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
William BlakeThe generations of men run on in the tide of time, but leave their destined lineaments permanent for ever and ever.
William BlakeHow sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!
William Blake