God pity the wretched prisoners In their lonely cells today;
Whatever the sins that tripped them, God pity them still, I say.
Only a strip of sunshine Cleft by rusty bars:
Only a patch of azure, Only a cluster of stars.
Once they were little children, And perhaps their wayward feet
Were led by a gentle mother Toward the golden street.
Therefore, if in life's forest They since have lost their way.
