My prison has its pleasures. Every day
At breakfast--time, spare meal of milk and bread,
Sparrows come trooping in familiar way
With head aside beseeching to be fed.
A spider too for me has spun her thread
Across the prison rules, and a brave mouse
Watches in sympathy the warders' tread,
These two my fellow--prisoners in the house.
But about dusk in the rooms opposite
I see lamps lighted, and upon the blind
A shadow passes all the evening through.
It is the gaoler's daughter fair and kind
And full of pity (so I image it)
Till the stars rise, and night begins anew.
Mitigations
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(1)
Poem topics: brave, daughter, house, night, sympathy, time, evening, head, shadow, rise, milk, bread, blind, Valentine's Day, mouse, prison, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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