London

I wander through 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 Infants cry of fear, 

In every voice: in every ban, 

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear. 

How the chimney-sweepers cry 

Every blackning Church appalls;

And the hapless Soldiers sigh 

Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most through midnight streets I hear 

How the youthful Harlots curse 

Blasts the new-born Infants tear, 

And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

~ WIlliam Blake