The Prisoner

NZ Truth, Issue 978, 23 August 1924, Page 5

The Prisoner

I saw a man sitting terribly alone, The butt of a hundred curious eyes. He made no movement, no moan, But sat aloof with a cold surmise Upon his face. And then the sun shone, Thrusting its flamelike fingers through the bars . Of the sad Court. He smiled, Gazing upon this white comfort , from the stars, And then he dreamed , Or seemed to, happily, for his gaze Mirrowed the vision of a childhood's play During, the lazy summer days Amongst the flowers and m the scented hay. v. ' ,' v ■■'■.'. — F.S.