My mother groand! my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my fathers hands:
Striving against my swaddling bands:
Bound and weary I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.
Infant Sorrow
William Blake
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Poem topics: cloud, father, world, thought, bound, mother, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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