Oer my Sins Thou sit and moan...
Oer my Sins Thou sit and moant
Hast thou no Sins of thy ownt
Oer my Sins thou sit and weept
And lull thy own Sins fast asleept
What Transgressions I commit
Are for thy Transgressions fit
They thy Harlots thou their Slave
And my Bed becomes their Grave
Poor pale pitiable form
That I follow in a Storm
Iron tears and groans of lead
Bind around my akeing head
And let us go to the highest downs
With many pleasing wiles
The Woman that does not love your Frowns
Will never embrace your smiles
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
