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. Struggl… - William Blake

My mother groan'd! my father wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity.

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away. Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me? For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

"The Lily of the valley, breathing in the humble grass
Answer'd the lovely maid and said: "I am a watry weed,
And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales;
So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head;
Yet I am visited from heaven, and he that smiles on all
Walks in the valley and each morn over me spreads his hand,
Saying: 'Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower,