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Book Report: This, not your PBS version of London

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"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-forged 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.

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