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Songs of Innocence and of Experience, by William Blake, [1789-1794], at

p. 38


When the voices of children, are heard on the green
And whisprings are in the dale:
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.

Then come home my children, the sun is gone down
And the dews of night arise
Your spring & your day, are wasted in play
And your winter and night in disguise.

Next: The Sick Rose