The Little Girl Lost

by William Blake

　　In futurity

　　I prophetic see

　　That the earth from sleep

　　(Grave the sentence deep)

　　Shall arise, and seek

　　For her Maker meek;

　　And the desert wild

　　Become a garden mild.

　　In the southern clime,

　　Where the summer’s prime

　　Never fades away,

　　Lovely Lyca lay.

　　Seven summers old

　　Lovely Lyca told.

　　She had wandered long,

　　Hearing wild birds’ song.

　　‘Sweet sleep, come to me,

　　Underneath this tree;

　　Do father, mother, weep?

　　Where can Lyca sleep?

　　‘Lost in desert wild

　　Is your little child.

　　How can Lyca sleep

　　If her mother weep?

　　‘If her heart does ache,

　　Then let Lyca wake;

　　If my mother sleep,

　　Lyca shall not weep.

　　‘Frowning, frowning night,

　　O’er this desert bright

　　Let thy moon arise,

　　While I close my eyes.’

　　Sleeping Lyca lay,

　　While the beasts of prey,

　　Come from caverns deep,

　　Viewed the maid asleep.

　　The kingly lion stood,

　　And the virgin viewed:

　　Then he gambolled round

　　O’er the hallowed ground.

　　Leopards, tigers, play

　　Round her as she lay;

　　While the lion old

　　Bowed his mane of gold,

　　And her bosom lick,

　　And upon her neck,

　　From his eyes of flame,

　　Ruby tears there came;

　　While the lioness

　　Loosed her slender dress,

　　And naked they conveyed

　　To caves the sleeping maid.