I ask’d a thief to steal me a peach:
He turned up his eyes.
I ask’d a lithe lady to lie her down:
Holy and meek, she cries.
As soon as I went
An angel came.
He wink’d at the thief
And smil’d at the dame—
And without one word said
Had a peach from the tree,
And still as a maid
Enjoy’d the lady.

William Blake