London
de William Blake(2005)
1 min lectură
Mediu
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 Infant\'s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg\'d manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweeper\'s cry
Every blackning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier\'s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
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.