"The Chimney Sweeper" from Songs of Innocence
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ¡¯ ¡®weep! ¡®weep! ¡®weep! ¡®weep!¡¯
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
There¡¯s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb¡¯s back, was shaved, so I said,
¡®Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head¡¯s bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.¡¯
And so he was quiet, & that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he¡¯d be a good boy,
He¡¯d have God for his father & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
"The Chimney Sweeper" from Songs of Experience
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying ¡®weep! ¡®weep!¡¯ in notes of woe!
¡®Where are thy father and mother? say?¡¯
¡®They are both gone up to the church to pray.
Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil¡¯d among the winter¡¯s snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.¡¯