the clod and the pebble.

a poem by william blake.

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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.

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love is easy. we make it hard.