Three Virgins at the break of day:
“Whither, young Man, whither away?
Alas for woe! alas for woe!”
They cry, & tears for ever flow.
The one was Clothd in flames of fire,
The other Clothd in iron wire,
The other Clothd in tears & sighs
Dazling bright before my Eyes.
They bore a Net of golden twine
To hang upon the Branches fine.
Pitying I wept to see the woe
That Love & Beauty undergo,
To be consumd in burning Fires
And in ungratified desires,
And in tears clothd Night & day
Melted all my Soul away.
When they saw my Tears, a Smile
That did Heaven itself beguile,
Bore the Golden Net aloft
As on downy Pinions soft
Over the Morning of my day.
Underneath the Net I Stray:
Now intreating Burning Fire,
Now intreating Iron Wire,
Now intreating Tears & Sighs.
O when will the morning rise?



The Golden Net

William Blake


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