The Clod and the Pebble
"Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for Itself hath any care,
But for another gives Its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."
So sang a little Clod of Clay
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
To bind another to Its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."
William Blake
