by William Blake (1757-1827)
Love and harmony combine, And around our souls entwine While thy branches mix with mine And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit, Chirping loud and singing sweet; Like gentle streams beneath our feet Innocence and virtue meet. Thou the golden fruit dost bear, I am clad in flowers fair; Thy sweet boughs perfume the air, And the turtle buildeth there. There she sits and feeds her young, Sweet I hear her mournful song; And thy lovely leaves among, There is love, I hear his tongue. There his charming nest doth lay, There he sleeps the night away; There he sports along the day, And doth among our branches play.