The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love,
and saw what I never had seen;
a chapel was built in the midst,
where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this chapel were shut,
and Thou Shalt not writ over the door;
so I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
that so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
and tomb-stones where flowers should be;
and priests in black growns where walking their rounds,
and binding with briars my joys & desires.

William Blake, from Songs of Experience