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.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
The script ran 0.002 seconds.
