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.

Struggling in my fathers bands: Striving against my swadling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mothers breast.

When I saw that rage was vain And to sulk would nothing gain Turning many a trick or wile I began to soothe & smile

And I grew day after day Till upon the ground I stray And I grew night after night Seeking only for delight

And I saw before me shine Clusters of the wandring vine And beyond a mirtle tree Stretchd its blossoms out to me

But a Priest [My Father] with holy look In his hand a holy book Pronouncd curses on his head Who the fruit or blossoms shed

I beheld the Priest by night He embracd my mirtle bright I beheld the Priest by day Where beneath my vine he lay

Like a serpent in the night He embracd my mirtle bright Like a serpent in the day Underneath my vine he lay

So I smote him & his gore Staind the roots my mirtle bore But the time of youth is fled And grey hairs are on my head