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To Tirzah

 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 changed 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-deceiving tears.
Didst blind my Nostrils Eyes & 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?

Poem by William Blake
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Book: Shattered Sighs