London

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 black'ning 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

Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open

And let his wife and children return from the oppressor's scourge

They look behind at every step and believe it is a dream

Singing: "The Sun has left his blackness, and has found a fresher morning

And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear and cloudless night

For Empire is no more, and now the Lion and Wolf shall cease"