”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
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 black”ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier”s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
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.
The stanza form in ”London” is referred to as