William
Blake
When
my
mother
died
I
was
very
young，
And
my
father
sold
me
while
yet
my
tongue
Could
scarcely
cry
“‘weep!
weep!
weep!
weep!”
So
your
chimney
I
sweep，&
in
soot
I
sleep.
There’s
little
Tom
Dacre
who
cried
when
his
head
That
curl’d
like
a
lamb’s
back，was
shav’d，so
I
said，
“Hush，Tom!
never
mind
it，for
when
our
head’s
bare，
You
know
that
the
soot
cannot
spoil
your
white
hair.”
And
so
he
was
quiet，&
that
very
night，
As
Tom
was
a-sleeping
he
had
such
a
sight!
That
thousands
of
sweepers，Dick，Joe，Ned，&
Jack，
Were
all
of
them
lock’d
up
in
coffins
of
black;
And
by
came
an
angel
who
had
a
bright
key，
And
he
open’d
the
coffins
&
set
them
all
free;
Then
down
a
green
plain，leaping，laughing
they
run
And
wash
in
a