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<<< William Blake: "London." >>> 

I wander thro' each charter'd street,
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-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appals,
And the hopeless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infant's tear
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
 

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<<< Periodyk Poetycki, numer 2, świąteczny 2003 : periodyk-poetycki@pf.pl >>>