See Maundy Thursday
(from Songs of Innocence
'Twas on a Holy Thursday
, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green:
walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames
’ waters flow.
O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven
the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among.
Beneath them sit the agèd men, wise guardians of the poor;
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel
from your door.
(from Songs of Experience
Is this a holy
thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reduced to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!
And their sun does never shine,
And their fields are bleak and bare,
And their ways are filled with thorns
It is eternal winter there.
For where'er the sun does shine,
And where'er the rain does fall,
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall