one Poesy Of William Blake Infant Sorrow My Mother Groan' D! My Father Wept. Into The Dangerous Word I Leapt: Helpless,naked,piping Loud, Like A Friend Hid In A Cloused. Struggling In My Father's Hands. Striving Against My Swaddling - Bands, Bound And Weary I Thourght Best To Sulk Upon My Mother's Breast.