London

(words by william blake [1757 - 1827]) I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear. How the chimney-sweeper's cry Every blackening church appalls, And the hapless soldier's sigh Runs in blood down palace walls But most, through midnight streets I hear How the youthful harlot's curse Blasts the new-born infant's tear And blights with plagues the marriage hearse I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe