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England! awake! awake! awake!

 England! awake! awake! awake! 
Jerusalem thy Sister calls! 
Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death 
And close her from thy ancient walls? 

Thy hills and valleys felt her feet 
Gently upon their bosoms move: 
Thy gates beheld sweet Zion's ways: 
Then was a time of joy and love.
And now the time returns again: Our souls exult, and London's towers Receive the Lamb of God to dwell In England's green and pleasant bowers.

by William Blake
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