Page:William Blake, a critical essay (Swinburne).djvu/154

138

Helpless, naked, piping loud,

Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

II. Struggling in my father's hands,

Striving against my swaddling bands,

Bound and weary, I thought best

To sulk upon my mother's breast.

III. When I saw that rage was vain

And to sulk would nothing gain,

Twining many a trick and wile

I began to soothe and smile.

IV. And I grew day after day,

Till upon the ground I lay;

And I grew night after night,

Seeking only for delight.

V. And I saw before me shine

Clusters of the wandering vine;

And many a lovely flower and tree

Stretched their blossoms out to me.

VI. But many a priest with holy look,

In their hands a holy book,

Pronouncèd curses on his head

Who the fruit or blossoms shed.