Everything To Be Imagined Is An Image

Excessive Sorrow Laughs. Excessive Joy Weeps.

I Must Create A System, Or Be Enslav'd By Another Man's.

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-forg'd 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.

I Am In You And You In Me, Mutual In Divine Love.

The Lamb Misused Breeds Public Strife And Yet Forgives The Butcher's Knife.