BY ROTH.

A kind word for the prisoner,
A smile to cheer his heart,

For he bears a grievous burden,
Tho' he bravely plays his part.

From the world he hides his sorrows,
Stifles the groan of distress

That struggles oft for utterance
Beneath his convict dress.

The alert night watch could tell
Of the burning sighs they hear

While making midnight rounds
Through corridors so drear.

Then cheer his lot with kindness,
E'en though he be depraved:

If, wakened from his blindness,
The worst one may be saved.