Infant Sorrow

by William Blake

  My mother groan'd! 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 swadling bands,

  Bound and weary I thought best

  To sulk upon my mother’s breast.


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