The Chimney-Sweeper

A little black thing among the snow, 
Crying! ‘weep! weep!’ in notes of woe! ‘
Where are thy father and mother? Say?’
‘They are both gone up to the church to pray. 

‘Because I was happy upon the heath, 
And smiled among the winter’s snow, 
They clothed me in the clothes of death, 
And taught me to sing the notes of woe. 

‘And because I am happy and dance and sing, 
They think they have done me no injury, 
And are gone to praise God and His priest and king, 
Who made up a heaven of our misery.’