Strange Mystery Flower sing William Blake

by Strange Mystery Flower

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Welcome, stranger, to this place, Where Joy doth sit on every bough; Paleness flies from every face; We reap not what we do not sow. Innocence doth like a rose Bloom on every maiden's cheek; Honour twines around her brows The Jewel health adorns her neck.
Spring 02:47
Sound the flute! Now it’s mute. Birds delight Day and night. Nightingale In the dale, Lark in the sky, Merrily, Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year. Little boy Full of joy, Little girl Sweet and small. Cock does crow, So do you. Merry voice, Infant noise, Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year. Little lamb Here I am Come and lick My white neck. Let me pull Your soft wool. Let me kiss Your soft face, Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.
Leave oh leave me to my sorrows; Here I’ll sit and fade away, Till I’m nothing but a spirit, And I lose this form of clay. Then if chance along this forest Any walk in pathless ways, Through the gloom he’ll see my shadow Hear my voice upon the breeze.
Night 02:41
The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower, In heaven's high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night. Farewell, green fields and happy groves, Where flocks have took delight. Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing, And joy without ceasing, On each bud and blossom, And each sleeping bosom. They look in every thoughtless nest, Where birds are covered warm; They visit caves of every beast, To keep them all from harm. If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping, They pour sleep on their head, And sit down by their bed.
Is this a holy thing to see, In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reducd to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy? And so many children poor? It is a land of poverty! And their sun does never shine. And their fields are bleak & bare. And their ways are fill'd with thorns. It is eternal winter there. For where-e'er the sun does shine, And where-e'er the rain does fall: Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.
Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! And no go to him, I say And wipe all his tears away Oh no! never can it be! Never can it be! And can He who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird's grief and care, Hear the woes that infants bear - And not sit beside the nest, Pouring pity in their breast, And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant's tear? And not sit both night and day, Wiping all our tears away? O no! never can it be! Think not you can sigh a sigh And your maker is not by No! never can it be! Never can it be!
Nurse's song 00:50
When the voices of children are heard on the green And whisp’rings are in the dale, The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, My face turns green and pale. Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of night arise; Your spring and your day are wasted in play, And your winter and night in disguise.
Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm; Besides I can tell where I am use'd well, Such usage in heaven will never do well. But if at the Church they would give us some Ale. And a pleasant fire, our souls to regale; We'd sing and we'd pray, all the live-long day; Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray, Then the Parson might preach & drink & sing. And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring: And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children nor fasting nor birch. And God like a father rejoicing to see, His children as pleasant and happy as he: Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the Barrel But kiss him & give him both drink and apparel.
Children of the future age, Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime. In the age of gold, Free from winter's cold, Youth and maiden bright, To the holy light, Naked in the sunny beams delight. Once a youthful pair, Filled with softest care, Met in garden bright Where the holy light Had just removed the curtains of the night. Then, in rising day, On the grass they play; Parents were afar, Strangers came not near, And the maiden soon forgot her fear. Tired with kisses sweet, They agree to meet When the silent sleep Waves o'er heaven's deep, And the weary tired wanderers weep. To her father white Came the maiden bright; But his loving look, Like the holy book All her tender limbs with terror shook. 'Ona, pale and weak, To thy father speak! Oh the trembling fear! Oh the dismal care That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair!'
Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun: Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the travellers journey is done. Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire, Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.


While on a mesmerizing trip through northern Italy, Roger Arias discovers a mysterious relationship with the poems of William Blake. Those mystical and visionary writings awaken the desire of the musician to compose melodies and sing them. This is how Strange Mystery Flower comes into being. The original lineup of the band includes Amparo Arias, Raoul Diz and Roger himself.


released October 5, 2019


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