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 smil'd among the winter's snow,
They clothèd 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 make up a Heaven of our misery.'