Silent, Silent Night

Silent, silent night,
Quench the holy light
Of thy torches bright;

For possessed of Day
Thousand spirits stray
That sweet joys betray.

Why should joys be sweet
Used with deceit,
Nor with sorrows meet?

But an honest joy
Does itself destroy
For a harlot coy.

by William Blake

Comments (1)

I first found this poem in a treasury of British poetry, and I had no idea who Mary Leapor was but I immediately liked her. I love her wit and the way she seems unafraid of death.