I ask’d a thief to steal me a peach: He turned up his eyes. I ask’d a lithe lady to lie her down: Holy and meek, she cries. As soon as I went An angel came. He wink’d at the thief And smil’d at the dame— And without one word said Had a peach from the tree, And still as a maid Enjoy’d the lady.

Poems from Blake’s Notebook. I Asked a Thief

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