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posted Feb 5, 2010, 5:49 AM by Mike Jaeger



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 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 appalls,
 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 Marriage hearse

The Tyger


Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
 In the forests of the night;
 What immortal hand or eye,
 Could frame thy fearful symmetry

 In what distant deeps or skies.
 Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
 On what wings dare he aspire?
 What the hand, dare sieze the fire!

 And what shoulder, & what art.
 Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
 And when thy heart began to beat,
 What dread hand! & what dread feet!

 What the hammer! what the chain,
 In what furnace was thy brain



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