Ah Sunflower
Ah Sunflower, weary of time, / Who countest the steps of the sun;
INFANT SORROW
❦
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.
More poems by William Blake
Earth's Answer
Earth raised up her head / From the darkness dread and drear,
Chimney Sweeper, The
A little black thing in the snow, / Crying "weep! weep!" in notes of woe!
A Song
Sweet dreams, form a shade / O'er my lovely infant's head!