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Greg Brown
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London
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 Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 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.
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