Poem William Blake

Thou hast a lap full of seed,

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Thou hast a lap full of seed,
And this is a fine country.
Why dost thou not cast thy seed
And live in it merrily?

Shall I cast it on the sand
And turn it into fruitful land?
For on no other ground
Can I sow my seed
Without tearing up
Some stinking weed.

In a Myrtle Shade
Why Should I Care for the Men of Thames

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