LITTLE LAMB

    This poem started trickling through my head yesterday.  I think because I was thinking about my friend, Sandy.  We went to high school together in the fifties.  Among the memories a few lines of this little poem by William Blake floated along.   The trusty ol' Internet coughed it up.  Somehow it has much more meaning now than when I was sixteen years old!   

The Lamb

by

William Blake

Little lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Gave thee life and bid thee feed

By the stream and o'er the mead;

Gave thee clothing woolly bright

Gave thee such a tender voice

Making all the vales rejoice! 

Dost thou know who made thee

Little lamb I'll tell thee

Little lamb I'll tell thee

He is called by thy name,

For He calls Himself a lamb

He is meek and He is mild

He became a little child.

I a child and thou a lamb,

We are called by His Name

Little lamb God bless thee

Little lamb God bless thee

   I couldn't resist capitalizing the He, His, and Himself.  I especially like the line, "I a child" and I am sure glad I am His child!  Oh my,  now I'm remembering,  "Mornings at seven........"