William Blake (
1757-
1827)
Whate'er is Born of Mortal Birth
Must be consumed with the Earth,
To rise from Generation free:
Then what have I to do with thee?
The Sexes sprung from Shame and Pride,
Blowed in the morn, in evening died;
But Mercy changed Death into Sleep;
The Sexes rose to work and weep.
Thou, Mother of my Mortal part,
With cruelty didst mould my Heart,
And with false self-deceiving tears
Didst bind my Nostrils, Eyes, and Ears.
Didst close my Tongue in senseless clay,
And me to Mortal Life betray.
The death of Jesus set me free;
Then what have I to do with thee?