classic poetry
1794 - Songs of Experience To Tirzah   by William Blake
    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 & Pride
Blowd in the morn; in evening died
But Mercy changd Death into Sleep;

The Sexes rose to work & weep.

Thou Mother of my Mortal part,
With cruelty didst mould my Heart.
And with false self-decieving tears,
Didst bind my Nostrils Eyes & Ears.

Didst close my Tongue in senseless clay
And me to Mortal Life betray:
The Death of Jesus set me free.
Them what have I to do with thee?
 
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