Prison Pains.
Reading edition
BY HARRISON.
Oh! to be heart hungry, To feel that never again
Shall the heart pulsate with rapture To the music of love's strain!
To feel o'er the senses stealing A grief for words too deep,
And know the heart's best instincts Are locked in fathomless sleep.
To hear the piteous wailings That rise from an empty heart,
While every breath is torture And every thought a dart.
Oh, list to the wondrous music As it floats from the world above:
"There is balm for the broken-hearted: The gift of my Son is—love."
Aye, prayer to heaven ascending, Tho' winged from a convict cell,
Shall find in heaven a welcome No tongue can ever tell.