I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A 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-forged manacles I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.

by William Blake

Comments (31)

I have studied this poem during my Degree. Very Good Poem.
Y 420 blaze it when u can buy a dad and name it
im only here cause i have english hw
Nah. Not good enough
so great and rich poem. i enjoyed reading it.
See More