Poem by Ernest Charles Jones

Prison Bars

Ye scowling prison bars
    That compass me about,
I'll forge ye into armour
    To face the world without.

Bold Aspiration's furnace
    Shall fuse ye with its heat,
And stern Resolve shall fashion
    With steady iron beat.

Experience' solid anvil
    The burning mass shall hold;
And Patience' bony fingers
    Each groove exactly mould.

Then with my modern armour
    Above my ancient scars,
I'll march upon my foemen
    And strike with prison bars.

1. Too Soon
2. Our Warning
3. New Year's Eve
4. A Prisoner's Night-Thought
5. A Song for the People

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