Rula
Rula
Jul 13, 2017
This poem is part of the workshop:

IMAGERY IN POETRY( ready to start?)

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Infant Sorrow by William Blake (Imagery WS)

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.

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Jordan, JOR

Favorite Poets: I favor the ones who are closer to humanity and

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Comments

S

An excellent short poem I'd never read. Should be a good one for shop purposes also