From the Poets
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a lamb!’ So I piped with merry cheer. ‘Piper, pipe that song again!’ So I piped: he wept to hear. ‘Piper, sit thee down, and write, In a book that all may read.’ So he vanished from my sight; And I plucked a hollow reed. And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs, Every child may joy to hear. —William Blake.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19360613.2.141.11.14
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 22915, 13 June 1936, Page 22 (Supplement)
Word Count
101From the Poets Southland Times, Issue 22915, 13 June 1936, Page 22 (Supplement)
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