By [William Blake], 1793\\ ~~One of the [Songs of Experience]~~ I wander 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.\\ \\ 2005-03-09 09:56:58.0 2005-03-09 09:56:58.0