Sunday, October 26, 2014

London -- William Blake (1794)



I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd 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-forg'd manacles I hear 

How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every black'ning Church appalls, 
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls 

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born Infant's tear 
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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