London | Londinium | LDN

I wander through 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-forged manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening Church appalls,
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.

London, by William Blake.