The Clod And The Pebble (William Blake Poem) Lyrics by Someone Still Loves You B
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Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet:
But a pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.
Love seeketh not Itself to please,   Nor for itself hath any care;   But for another gives its ease,   And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.      So sang a little Clod of Clay,   Trodden with the cattle's feet:   But a pebble of the brook,   Warbled out these metres meet.      Love seeketh only Self to please,   To bind another to Its delight:   Joys in another's loss of ease,   And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.