“London” by William Blake (1974) – Anthology & Interpretation

“London” by William Blake (1974)

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

My Interpretation

I live on the streets of London
Among the lost in the hazy fog.
My soul cries that I be done,
That I hold my hands along.
The statues that line my thoughts–

Those whom I have worshiped
And aspire to be.
I am lost in this developed
World that confines me.

I was born to be free from oppression,
Yet I cage myself in my own hell.
I bar and lock my absolution,
I add to the world’s silent quell.
My freedom was lost until it’s naught.

The things that are should not’s
And please do’s.
My hope is to be led and taught
How to pay my own due.
So I am no longer a slave to the lot.

Others who live in soulless poverty.
Those who can no longer
Feel the sun shine on their story,
And no longer have the will to get stronger,
For life has brought only fraught.

I am among the countless who weep
Because they are weary.
Lost in the land of fruitless sleep.
Hopeless, stubborn, the sky too is bleary.
Stuck, trapped and caught, avoiding the shot.

One that was aimed for you,
Just like it was aimed at me.
My peace is no longer an adieu
But stays with me to be free,
Giving reasons for life and joyous trot.

Down the streets
I rejoice and canter-
Feeling the freedom of my voice.
Singing, screaming, bringing flatter
To the new found hope that once was fraught.

Truth – serum that has
Saved my soul and pronounced me alive.
Feeling this reminiscing like jazz;
Parked on the market square starting a jive.
Bringing hope and freedom to the lot.

I live on the streets of London,
Sitting on the curb –
I listen to the child suffer through the mutton
And the cries heard from the disturbed.
I sit with my heart full of hopeful thoughts.

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