StalkerJournal 23

The Garden of Love
By William Blake

I went to the Garden of Love
And saw what I never had seen
A Chapel was built in the midst
Where I used to play on the green

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And Thou shalt not' writ over the door
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore

And I saw it was filled with graves
And tomb-stones where flowers should be
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds
And binding with briars my joys and desires