Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

My Pretty Rose Tree

A flower was offered to me: Such a flower as May never bore. But I said "I've a Pretty Rose-tree", And I passed the sweet flower o'er. Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree: To tend her by day and by . But my Rose turn'd away with jealousy: And her thorns were my only delight.

The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love.
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And "Shalt Not", writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and ,
Till it bore an apple .
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.