the clod and the pebble

"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 sung a little clod of clay,

Trodden with the cattle's feet;

But a pebble of the brook 

Warbled out these meters 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." 


William Blake