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William Blake · Songs of Innocence and of Experience

Poem 39 of 47 · Book I

Infant Sorrow

— ✻ —

My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father’s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother’s breast.

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