Little boy lost

Little boy lost (by William Blake)

Father, father, where are you going?
O do not walk so fast!
Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.

And, father, how can I love you though
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.

The night was dark, no father was there,
The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.

The weeping child could not be heard,
The weeping parents wept in vain,
They stripped him to his little tights,
And bound him in an iron chain.

Father, father, where are you going?
O do not walk so fast!
Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.

And, father, how can I love you though
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.