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"