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