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Infant Sorrow by William Blake (Imagery WS)
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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Comments
scribbler
Thu, 2017-07-13 16:25
Hi Rula
An excellent short poem I'd never read. Should be a good one for shop purposes also