| London.
|
| Lonely 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 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.
|
| Folly is the cloak of knavery.
|
| Shame is prides cloak.
|
| Prisons are built with stones of law.
|
| Brothels with bricks of religion.
|
| The pride of the peacock is the glory of god.
|
| The lust of the goat is the bounty of god.
|
| The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of god.
|
| The nakedness of woman is the work of god.
|
| Excess of sorrow laughs.
|
| Excess of joy weeps.
|
| The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves,
|
| the raging of the stormy sea and the destructive sword
|
| are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.
|
| The fox condemns the trap not himself.
|
| Joys impregnate, sorrows bring forth.
|
| Let man wear the fell of the lion,
|
| woman the fleece of the sheep.
|
| What is now proved was once only imagined.
|
| Always be ready to speak your mind and a base man will avoid you.
|
| The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to the learn of the crow.
|
| The fox provides for himself but god provides for the lion.
|
| He who desires but acts not breeds pestilence.
|
| The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
|
| Expect poison from the standing water.
|
| You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough. |