AUTHOR COMMENT'S



William Blake

London


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 appalls,
 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