Blake London Songs of Experience I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does

s 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. ow the chimney-swee!er's cry "very blackening church a!!alls, And the ha!less soldier's sigh #uns in blood down !alace walls. $ut most, through midnight streets I hear ow the youthful harlot's curse $lasts the new-born infant's tear And blights with !lagues the marriage hearse.