Infant Sorrow

William Blake 1757 (Soho) – 1827 (London)

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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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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William Blake

William Blake was an English poet, painter and printmaker. more…

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"Infant Sorrow" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 6 Aug. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/39113/infant-sorrow>.

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