London
By William Blake
I wander thro' each charter'd streetconstraint, 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 manaclespsychological oppression I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry Every blackning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldiers sigh Runs in blood down PalaceKing waging war walls
But most thro' midnight streetsbleak outlook I hear How the youthful Harlots curse Blasts the new-born Infants tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
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| Emotion |
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