Piping down the valleys wild,, To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love, all pray in their distress:, Sweet dreams form a shade,, "I have no name, I have no name.", Merry Merry Sparrow under leaves so green,, Sound the Flute! Now it's mute., When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, Once a dream did weave a shade,, I love to rise in a summer morn,, I went to the Garden of Love,, I wander thro' each charter'd street,, When the voices of children are head on the green,, In the Age of Gold, free from winter's cold:, I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?, Ah! Sunflower weary of time,, Little Fly, thy summer's play, A flow'r was offer'd to me;, O Rose thou art sick, I was angry with my friend,, When the voices of children are heard on the green, Youth of delight come hither and see the opening morn,, 'Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,, 'Nought loves another as itself,, What e'er is born of Mortal Birth must be consum'd with the Earth, Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold,, When my mother died I was very young,, A little black thing among the snow: crying weep,, Pity would be no more, if we did not make somebody Poor;, Tyger, Tyger burning bright,, Little Lamb who made thee?, My mother bore me in the southern wild,