Poems of Experience by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
page 61 of 83 (73%)
page 61 of 83 (73%)
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I'm pardoned out. Old Father Time Who seemed to halt in horror, when I stained my manhood by a crime, With steady step moves on again, And through the black appalling night, That walled me in a gloom accurst, The wonder of the morning light In sudden glory burst. I'm pardoned out. I shall be known No more by number, but by name. And yet each whispering wind has blown Abroad the story of my shame. I dread to see men shrink away With startled looks of scorn or fear, When in life's crowded marts some day, That name falls on their ear. I'm pardoned out, ah God! to roam Like some whipped dog among my kind. I have no friends, I have no home, Save these bleak walls I leave behind. How can I face the world of men, My comrades in the days of yore? Oh! hide me in my cell again, And, warden, lock the door. |
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