http://chronicle.com/article/William-Blakes-America-2010/125024/
LONDON, by William Blake
I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And 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.
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.