THE GARDEN OF LOVE

 

I went to the Garden of Love,

   And saw what I never had seen;

A Chapel was built in the midst,

   Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

   And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door;

So I turned to the Garden of Love

   That so many sweet flowers bore. And I

saw it was filled with graves,

   And tombstones where flowers should be;

And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,

   And binding with briars my joys and

desires.

 

— William Blake, Songs of Experience