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William  Blake
The Clod & the Pebble

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Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

 

 

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