The spirits of the air live on the smells Of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.
William BlakeAnd priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love')
William BlakeIf you trap the moment before it's ripe, The tears of repentence you'll certainly wipe; But if once you let the ripe moment go You can never wipe off the tears of woe.
William BlakeEmbraces are comminglings from the head even to the feet, And not a pompous high priest entering by a secret place.
William Blake