Poetry Chamber

The Chimney Sweeper

by William Blake

1When my mother died I was very young,

2And my father sold me while yet my tongue

3Could scarcely cry "'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"

4So your chimneys I sweep, & in soot I sleep.

6There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,

7That curled like a lamb's back, was shav'd: so I said,

8"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare

9You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

11And so he was quiet, & that very night,

12As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!

13That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,

14Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.

16And by came an Angel who had a bright key,

17And he open'd the coffins & set them all free;

18Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,

19And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.

21Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,

22They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;

23And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,

24He'd have God for his father, & never want joy.

26And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,

27And got with our bags & our brushes to work.

28Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;

29So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.

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