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 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.
Baptism: A Journey Through Our Time
- Old Welsh Song
- I Saw The Vision Of Armie..
- Minister Of War
- Song In The Blood
- In Guernica
- No Man Is An Island
- All The Pretty Little Hor..
- Gacela Of The Dark Death
- The Parable Of The Old Ma..