sexta-feira, março 04, 2005

parte da noite, parto de dia

The Little Boy Lost

Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,

The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, & the child dip weep
And away the vapeur flew.


William Blake, Songs of Innocence and of Experience

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