Date: Thu, 26 Sep 1996 09:52:55 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: Thinking of Lisa


                 THE BIRDS

             by William Blake

He.   Where thou dwellest, in what Grove
      Tell me, Fair one, tell me, love;
      Where thou thy charming nest dost build,
      O thou pride of every field!

She.  Yonder stands a lonely tree, 
      There I live & mourn for thee.
      Morning drinks my silent tear,
      And evening winds my sorrows bear.

He.   O thou Summer's harmony,
      I have liv'd & mourn'd for thee.
      Each day I mourn along the wood,
      And night hath heard my sorrows loud.

She.  Dost thou truly long for me?
      And am I thus sweet to thee?
      Sorrow now is at an End,
      O my Lover & my Friend!

He.   Come, on wings of joy we'll fly
      To where my Bower hangs on high!
      Come, & make thy calm retreat
      Among green leaves & blossoms sweet!


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