PRISON NOCTURNE

Outside the storm is swishing to and fro;

The wet wind hums its colorless refrain;

Against the walls and dripping bars, the rain

Beats with a rhythm like a song of woe;

Dimmed by the lightning's ever-fitful glow

The purple arc-lamps blur each streaming pane;

The thunder rumbles at the distant plain,

The cells are hushed and silent, row on row.

Fall, fruitful drops, upon the parching earth,

Fall, and revive the living sap of spring;

Blossom the fields with wonder once again!

And, in all hearts, awaken to new birth

Those visions and endeavors that will bring

A fresh, sweet morning to the world of men!