How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
He showed me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.
The Bard on the Hill 
Blake is one of my favorites.
S. Thomas Summers
Author of Private Hercules McGraw: Poems of the American Civil ar
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