Tired and woe-begone, They traced the desert ways. Seven nights they sleep Among shadows deep, And dream they see their child Starved in desert wild. Pale, through pathless ways Rising from unrest The trembling woman press'd With feet of weary woe: She could no further go. In his arms he bore Her, arm'd with sorrow sore; Till before their way A couching lion lay. Turning back was vain : Bore them to the ground; Then he stalk'd around, 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 voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear. How the chimney-sweeper's cry Runs in blood down palace-walls. But most thro' midnight streets I hear Blasts the new-born infant's tear, And blights with plagues the marriage hearse. W TO TIRZAH. HATE'ER is born of mortal birth Must be consumed with the earth, To rise from generation free: Then what have I to do with thee? The sexes sprung from shame and pride Thou mother of my mortal part Didst close my tongue in senseless clay The death of Jesus set me free: IT IS RAISED A SPIRITUAL BODY. THE HUMAN ABSTRACT. ITY would be no more PITY If we did not make somebody poor; And mercy no more could be If all were as happy as we. And mutual fear brings peace, |