A Little Girl Lost - By William Blake

Children of the future age,
   Reading this indignant page,
   Know that in a former time
   Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.

   In the age of gold,
   Free from winter's cold,
   Youth and maiden bright,
   To the holy light,
   Naked in the sunny beams delight.

   Once a youthful pair,
   Filled with softest care,
   Met in garden bright
   Where the holy light
   Had just removed the curtains of the night.

   Then, in rising day,
   On the grass they play;
   Parents were afar,
   Strangers came not near,
   And the maiden soon forgot her fear.

   Tired with kisses sweet,
   They agree to meet
   When the silent sleep
   Waves o'er heaven's deep,
   And the weary tired wanderers weep.

   To her father white
   Came the maiden bright;
   But his loving look,
   Like the holy book
   All her tender limbs with terror shook.

   "Ona, pale and weak,
   To thy father speak!
   Oh the trembling fear!
   Oh the dismal care
   That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!"