Page 29. " I'm nearly nobody, he said. Most of me is Arthur. He laughed but he didn't smile. Arthur Itis, he squeaked. He's the one that's running me bones. Turns you to stone then crumbles you away. "

On Anothers Sorrow

by William Blake


Can I see another's woe,

And not be in sorrow too?

Can I see another's grief,

And not seek for kind relief?


Can I see a falling tear,

And not feel my sorrow's share?

Can a father see his child

Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?


Can a mother sit and hear

An infant groan an infant fear?

No, no! never can it be!

Never, never can it be!


And can he who smiles on all

Hear the wren with sorrows small,

Hear the small bird's grief & care,

Hear the woes that infants bear,


And not sit beside the nest,

Pouring pity in their breast;

And not sit the cradle near,

Weeping tear on infant's tear;


And not sit both night & day,

Wiping all our tears away?

O, no! never can it be!

Never, never can it be!


He doth give his joy to all;

He becomes an infant small;

He becomes a man of woe;

He doth feel the sorrow too.


Think not thou canst sigh a sigh

And thy maker is not by;

Think not thou canst weep a tear

And thy maker is not near.


O! he gives to us his joy

That our grief he may destroy;

Till our grief is fled & gone

He doth sit by us and moan.

Page 49. " I don't even know if it's true or if it's a dream. "