I wandered through each chartered stream,
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 band,
the mind-forged medicals I hear.
How the chimney sweepers cry,
every blackening church uphols,
and the hapless
soldier's sigh runs its blood down palace walls.
But most through midnight streets I hear,
how the youthful harlot's curse,
blasts the newborn infant's tear,
and blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
I wandered through each chartered stream,
near where the chartered Thames does flow,
and mark in every face I meet
marks of weakness,
marks of woe.
