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!