after Blake’s ‘The Lamb’
Little man, who made thee so divine?
Dost thou know whence came thy form divine?
Form that causes female hearts to race
When they hap to gaze upon thy face?
Whence derived thy flair in things sartorial
Like unto an angel in angora wool;
Gave thy silken tongue the power to charm
All who are impervious to smarm?
Little man, who made thee so divine?
Dost thou know whence came thy form sublime?
Little man, I’ll tell thee all I know,
Little man, if thou shouldst will it so.
He is like to thee, of godlike form.
Miraculous the deeds He doth perform.
The world hath longed for thee since time began;
The world’s desire brought forth the perfect man.
Thou, a man, His image dost reflect
In a glass which mirrors no defect.
Little man, God made thee what thou art.
Little man, go forth and play thy part.
First published in Reach
Eleanor Dent's poetry 