THE PRISON-BORN.
Two blue eyes open on the light,
Of gloomy dungeon walls;
What sounds are these, which greet the ear?
A helpless infant calls:
These faint and feeble wailings,
My soul with sadness fill;
Heaven grant to shield the prison-born,
And guard that soul from ill.
Of gloomy dungeon walls;
What sounds are these, which greet the ear?
A helpless infant calls:
These faint and feeble wailings,
My soul with sadness fill;
Heaven grant to shield the prison-born,
And guard that soul from ill.
O! never more from Duty's path,
May gentle woman roam—
What crime hath brought this mother here—
Far from her childhood's home?
My answer comes in broken sobs,
A sigh, and stifled moan;
Another's cheeks are wet with tears,
The child weeps not alone.
May gentle woman roam—
What crime hath brought this mother here—
Far from her childhood's home?
My answer comes in broken sobs,
A sigh, and stifled moan;
Another's cheeks are wet with tears,
The child weeps not alone.
Fair Babe, as in a desert waste,
A sweet spring flower may bloom;
As kindly gleam from Mercy's lamp,
May visit error's tomb:
A sweet spring flower may bloom;
As kindly gleam from Mercy's lamp,
May visit error's tomb:
