Little Lamb

(On the train to university this morning I saw the full beauty and heartbreak of life. Blake entered my thoughts and is refusing to leave… This is the result and a true story, for all it’s love and sadness)

I saw thee lamb a leaping
A whisper in the grass
Curiosity clothed in innocence
The pride of a mothers eye

You came across a mother mare
Sadness in her cries
At her feet lies daughter foul
Devoid of gracious life.

“Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee”*

By the stream and over the mead
What gave you blessed life
And cruelly takes it from our sight
With the coming of the night

“Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee”*

Some claim he’s meek
Some claim he’s mild
They say he came down as a child,
And died for all our sins

But what sins could such a foul bequeath
In her newborn dying days
Such virtue cut so sadly down
Is it in thy name?

“He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb,
We are called by His name.”*

Blake, W., (1789) ‘The Lamb’ Songs of Innocence and Experience.

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Poem © Phen Weston

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