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Article THE PRISON-FLOWER. ← Page 2 of 3 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Prison-Flower.
I did not know myself . My gaoler came , A cold , stern man—he murmured out my name , In tones he meant for gentle—it was long Since even a semblance of such gentleness , Forced as it was , had eome to melt and bless—My frame was feeble , though my soul was strong , t out of to hear
And I wep very joy Such accents glad my unaccustom'd ear . There was a casement in my narrow cell , Where faint , and painfully , day ' s glorious light , In slender threads , as if in mockery , fell , To show me when the world beyond was bright . My gaoler brought a gift—oh ! that the proud Could know , amid the baubles which they prize ,
But half the feelings that sprang forth to crowd My gladden'd soul with their wild ecstasies;—It was a simple flower , not yet half blown , Inearth . 'd and healthful— 'twas a boon to me ! A something I could love—could tend—my oxon—Companion of my lone captivity . I gazed upon the leaves all fresh and green ; I knelt before it as a holthing
y ; It brought back thoughts of all that once had been , Ere fife ' s first bloom had felt the withering Of care and sorrow , and the icy clasp Of grief had blighted j oy . With trembling grasp I bore it to the dim and sickly light ; I watch'd it for whole hours ; and oft at night I it in dreams—it shared with me
saw my The water , and the day-beam—I had nought I prized like these ; and I was joy'd to see , That from this slender boon my blossom caught Strength , health , ancl beauty , and vitality .
in . How I remember it—that blissful hour—When first I look'd upon the opend flower ! I gazed , I wept , I drank its perfum'd breath—I fear'd to touch it , lest my touch should fade And wither it at once—I thought of death ,
Death to my fairy-bloom— -my prison guest—My only friend—my beautiful—my best;—Oh ! what a gala to my heart it made , To see the tinted flow'ret , bright and clear , All scent and beauty , five and blossom here 1 Here , where for years I had beheld but gloom , And sadness , and despondency ; to see tomb
This vision rise within my living ; Oh ! it was hope , and joy , and light to me ! I thought of long-forgotten scenes—of dreams I had of late fear'd in my midnight hours ; I had again a thousand glorious gleams Of a world lost to me—of birds and bowers—Of waving forests , and of sunny streams—
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Prison-Flower.
I did not know myself . My gaoler came , A cold , stern man—he murmured out my name , In tones he meant for gentle—it was long Since even a semblance of such gentleness , Forced as it was , had eome to melt and bless—My frame was feeble , though my soul was strong , t out of to hear
And I wep very joy Such accents glad my unaccustom'd ear . There was a casement in my narrow cell , Where faint , and painfully , day ' s glorious light , In slender threads , as if in mockery , fell , To show me when the world beyond was bright . My gaoler brought a gift—oh ! that the proud Could know , amid the baubles which they prize ,
But half the feelings that sprang forth to crowd My gladden'd soul with their wild ecstasies;—It was a simple flower , not yet half blown , Inearth . 'd and healthful— 'twas a boon to me ! A something I could love—could tend—my oxon—Companion of my lone captivity . I gazed upon the leaves all fresh and green ; I knelt before it as a holthing
y ; It brought back thoughts of all that once had been , Ere fife ' s first bloom had felt the withering Of care and sorrow , and the icy clasp Of grief had blighted j oy . With trembling grasp I bore it to the dim and sickly light ; I watch'd it for whole hours ; and oft at night I it in dreams—it shared with me
saw my The water , and the day-beam—I had nought I prized like these ; and I was joy'd to see , That from this slender boon my blossom caught Strength , health , ancl beauty , and vitality .
in . How I remember it—that blissful hour—When first I look'd upon the opend flower ! I gazed , I wept , I drank its perfum'd breath—I fear'd to touch it , lest my touch should fade And wither it at once—I thought of death ,
Death to my fairy-bloom— -my prison guest—My only friend—my beautiful—my best;—Oh ! what a gala to my heart it made , To see the tinted flow'ret , bright and clear , All scent and beauty , five and blossom here 1 Here , where for years I had beheld but gloom , And sadness , and despondency ; to see tomb
This vision rise within my living ; Oh ! it was hope , and joy , and light to me ! I thought of long-forgotten scenes—of dreams I had of late fear'd in my midnight hours ; I had again a thousand glorious gleams Of a world lost to me—of birds and bowers—Of waving forests , and of sunny streams—