William Blake: Poetry
The Little Black Boy
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O, my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved of light
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Ever seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
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Posted by
at
21:31:22
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