A FEW THOUGHTS ABOUT LONDON

London                               

I wander thro' 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-forg'd manacles I hear 
 
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls, 
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 
 
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