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London by William Blake (1794)


William Blake

 

 

 


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-sweeper's 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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