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Text by William Blake
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying "'weep! 'weep!" in notes of woe!
"Where are they father and mother, say?" -
"They are both gone up to the Church to pray.
"Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil'd among the winter's snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
"And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and His Priest and King,
Who make up a Heaven of our misery."
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