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LONDON
by 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 weaknessmarks of woe. -
In every cry of every Man
In every Infant's cry of fear
In every voicein 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. - -
THE END