Poems of William Blake

Piping down the valleys wild, 
Piping songs of pleasant glee, 
On a cloud I saw a child, 
And he laughing said to me: 
 
"Pipe a song about a Lamb!" 
So I piped with merry cheer. 
"Piper, pipe that song again;" 
So I piped: he wept to hear. 
 
"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; 
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" 
So I sang the same again, 
While he wept with joy to hear. 
 
"Piper, sit thee down and write 
In a book, that all may read." 
So he vanish'd from my sight; 
And I pluck'd a hollow reed, 
 
And I made a rural pen, 
And I stain'd the water clear, 
And I wrote my happy songs 
Every child may joy to hear.