| William Blake (1757–1827). The Poetical Works. 1908. | | | | Poetical Sketches | | Mad Song |
| | | THE WILD winds weep, | |
| And the night is a-cold; | |
| Come hither, Sleep, | |
| And my griefs unfold: | |
| But lo! the morning peeps | 5 |
| Over the eastern steeps, | |
| And the rustling beds of dawn | |
| The earth do scorn. | |
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| Lo! to the vault | |
| Of pavèd heaven, | 10 |
| With sorrow fraught | |
| My notes are driven: | |
| They strike the ear of night, | |
| Make weep the eyes of day; | |
| They make mad the roaring winds, | 15 |
| And with tempests play. | |
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| Like a fiend in a cloud, 1 | |
| With howling woe | |
| After night I do crowd, | |
| And with night will go; | 20 |
| I turn my back to the east | |
| From whence comforts have increas’d; | |
| For light doth seize my brain | |
| With frantic pain. | |
| | Note 1. Cp. ‘Infant Sorrow’ in the Songs of Experience:| Helpless, naked, piping loud, | | Like a fiend hid in a cloud. |
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