Holy Thursday

William Blake

1757 to 1827

Poem Image
Track 1

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Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!
Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.
From Songs of Innocence
The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green:
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among:
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.

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