The Poetry and Prose of William Blake Edited by David V. Erdman: Commentary by Harold Bloom |
I. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
INFANT SORROW |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
II. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
7. |
III. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
IV. |
3. |
6. |
8. |
9. |
11. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
XII. |
XIII. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
XV. |
The Poetry and Prose of William Blake | ||
28
INFANT SORROW
My mother groand! my father wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud;
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
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 swadling bands:
Bound and weary I thought best
To sulk upon my mothers breast.
Striving against my swadling bands:
Bound and weary I thought best
To sulk upon my mothers breast.
The Poetry and Prose of William Blake | ||