Song: Memory, Hither Come
by William Blake

Memory, hither come
And tune your merry notes;
And while upon the wind
Your music floats,

I’ll pore upon the stream,
Where sighing lovers dream,
And fish for fancies as they pass
Within the watery glass.

I’ll drink of the clear stream,
And hear the linnet’s song,
And there I’ll lie and dream
The day along;

And when night comes I’ll go
To places fit for woe,
Walking along the darkened valley,
With silent melancholy.