Это цитата сообщения Ariadna_Waters Оригинальное сообщение

I wander thro'each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weekness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice; in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear

How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appals,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Mirrage hearse

William Blake.