Wander through each chartered street,

Near where the chartered Thames does flow,

A mark in every face I meet,

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

Thames泰晤士河

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:

manacles 手铐

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.

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