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Article THE PRISON-FLOWER. Page 1 of 3 →
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The Prison-Flower.
THE PRISON-FLOWER .
ET MISS PAKDOE . "The favorite and tho flower . "—BVHON . FOE years I had been captive , and alone ;
My heart had withered—and I sighed to know That of all those who lov'd me once , not one Was near to solace and to soothe me now ; I was alone , and hopeless—for long years My portion had been bitterness and tears . ' I fought , and fail'd—on Battle ' s ghastly plain I had exchang'd the weapon for the chain . What , though they slew me not ? I died no less To hope , to glory , ancl to happiness .
My only joy was memory—not a spot O ' er which my steps had wander'd , wild and free—Oh ! not a look or tone was now forgot , Where kindliness and love had welcom'cl me ! I learnt to note the seasons as they passed ; I divelt in thought on Spring ' s sweet buds and flowers , And many a halo o ' er my soul was cast ,
As in such visions sped my captive hours . I knew , too , when the summer birds were loud , When roses blossom'd , and when moons were full ; I knew it , though my eoop'd-up soul was bow'd ; Though I look'd not on things so beautiful ; I mused on Autumn ' s golden grains , and fruits , Her leafy forests , and her sunny streams ; '
And on the magic sound of lovers' flutes , Echo'd in many a maiden ' s gentlest dreams . I shiver'd beneath Winter ' s biting blast , E ' en in my narrow cell—in this alone Of all the changes over JSTature east , I still partook—as drearily and lone , I listen'd to the gusty winds , which swept Across the troubled sky , like spirit-moans ; And then I tura'd upon my straw , and wept , Or answer'd every peal with heart-wrung groans .
II . Time wore away , —I sicken'd , and forgot To trace his steps : all was alike to me—I sank beneath my dark and cheerless lot , And spent whole months in cold , blank apathy : I did not deem that I could feel again , In common with my kind , or joy , or pain—
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Prison-Flower.
THE PRISON-FLOWER .
ET MISS PAKDOE . "The favorite and tho flower . "—BVHON . FOE years I had been captive , and alone ;
My heart had withered—and I sighed to know That of all those who lov'd me once , not one Was near to solace and to soothe me now ; I was alone , and hopeless—for long years My portion had been bitterness and tears . ' I fought , and fail'd—on Battle ' s ghastly plain I had exchang'd the weapon for the chain . What , though they slew me not ? I died no less To hope , to glory , ancl to happiness .
My only joy was memory—not a spot O ' er which my steps had wander'd , wild and free—Oh ! not a look or tone was now forgot , Where kindliness and love had welcom'cl me ! I learnt to note the seasons as they passed ; I divelt in thought on Spring ' s sweet buds and flowers , And many a halo o ' er my soul was cast ,
As in such visions sped my captive hours . I knew , too , when the summer birds were loud , When roses blossom'd , and when moons were full ; I knew it , though my eoop'd-up soul was bow'd ; Though I look'd not on things so beautiful ; I mused on Autumn ' s golden grains , and fruits , Her leafy forests , and her sunny streams ; '
And on the magic sound of lovers' flutes , Echo'd in many a maiden ' s gentlest dreams . I shiver'd beneath Winter ' s biting blast , E ' en in my narrow cell—in this alone Of all the changes over JSTature east , I still partook—as drearily and lone , I listen'd to the gusty winds , which swept Across the troubled sky , like spirit-moans ; And then I tura'd upon my straw , and wept , Or answer'd every peal with heart-wrung groans .
II . Time wore away , —I sicken'd , and forgot To trace his steps : all was alike to me—I sank beneath my dark and cheerless lot , And spent whole months in cold , blank apathy : I did not deem that I could feel again , In common with my kind , or joy , or pain—