London
by William
Blake
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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.
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In every cry of every Man, |
In every Infant’s cry of fear, |
In every voice, in every ban, |
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear.
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How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry |
Every black’ning Church appalls ; |
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh |
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
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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.
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William Blake | Classic
Poems |
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[ Jerusalem ] [ A Poison Tree ] [ London ] [ The Clod and the Pebble ] [ The Fly ] [ The Tyger ] |
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