Silent, silent night, Quench the holy light Of thy torches bright; For possessed of Day Thousand spirits stray That sweet joys betray. Why should joys be sweet Used with deceit, Nor with sorrows meet? But an honest joy Does itself destroy For a harlot coy. ...

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O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. ...

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Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: 'Pipe a song about a lamb!' So I piped with merry cheer. 'Piper, pipe that song again.' So I piped: he wept to hear. 'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer.' So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. 'Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read.' So he vanished from my sight, And I plucked a ...

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