A Little Boy Lost - By William Blake

"Nought loves another as itself,
     Nor venerates another so,
   Nor is it possible to thought
     A greater than itself to know.

   "And, father, how can I love you
     Or any of my brothers more?
   I love you like the little bird
     That picks up crumbs around the door."

   The Priest sat by and heard the child;
     In trembling zeal he seized his hair,
   He led him by his little coat,
     And all admired the priestly care.

   And standing on the altar high,
     "Lo, what a fiend is here!" said he:
   "One who sets reason up for judge
     Of our most holy mystery."

   The weeping child could not be heard,
     The weeping parents wept in vain:
   They stripped him to his little shirt,
     And bound him in an iron chain,

   And burned him in a holy place
     Where many had been burned before;
   The weeping parents wept in vain.
     Are such thing done on Albion's shore?