A little black thing among the snow,
Crying "weep! weep! in notes of woe!
"Where are thy father & 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 in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

"And because I am happy & dance & sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery."

- William Blake

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