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

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appalls
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls;

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:

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

London, London

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:

London, London

Children of the future age
Reading this indignant page
Know that in a former time
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime

Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are
Open;
And let his wife and children return from the opressor'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." ... shall cease ... shall cease ...

Little fly
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink and sing
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing

If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death

Then am I
A happy fly
If I live
Or if I die
... or if I die ...
... or if I die ...