Уильям Блейк

Can a mother sit and hear,

10An infant groan an infant fear —

No no never can it be.

Never never can it be.

And can he who smiles on all

Hear the wren with sorrows small,

15Hear the small birds grief & care

Hear the woes that infants bear—

And not sit beside the nest

Pouring pity in their breast,

And not sit the cradle near

Weeping tear on infants tear.

And not sit both night & day,

Wiping all our tears away.

O! no never can it be.

Never never can it be.