Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,Dreaming in the joys of night;Sleep, sleep; in thy sleepLittle sorrows sit and weep.

Praises reap not! Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!

Joys impregnate, sorrows bring forth.

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright / In the forests of the night, / What immortal hand or eye / Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles

England! awake! awake! awake! / Jerusalem thy sister calls! / Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death, / And close her from thy ancient walls?