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 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 appals, 

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 

                                                                                                                                                          Published in 1794