Poem by Ernest Charles Jones

A Prisoner's Night-Thought

My life is but a toil of many woes,
    And keen excitement, wearing to the core;
And fervently I hope an hour's repose,
    My duty done, and all my warfare o'er.

Loud shouts have beaten on my tingling brain;
    Lone prisons thrilled the fevered thread of life;
The trophies perish—but the wrecks remain!
    And burning scars survive the dizzy strife.

Oh! 'tis a dreadful war, for one to wage,
    Against deep-rooted prejudice and power;
Crush, in one life, the seeds of many an age,
    And blast black centuries in a single hour!

Who dares it, throws his life into the scale,
    Redemption's voluntary sacrifice:
His hope—to be a martyr, should he fail,
    Or, at the best, to conquer—as he dies!

1. Too Soon
2. Our Warning
3. Hymn for Lammas Day
4. The Sea Shell on the Desert
5. Prison Bars

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