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 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 appals,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new- born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
( 1791) London by William Blake, from his collection Songs of Experience ( 1794)
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/Prblake.htm
