  WEARILY, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily Sounds the wind's song, Bending the banner-poles. While, all alone, Watching the loophole's spark, Lie I, with life all dark, Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd Fast to the stone, The grim walls, square letter'd With prison'd men's groan. Still strain the banner-poles Through the wind's song, Westward the banner rolls Over my wrong. THE END Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. Transcriber's Note: Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst archaic spellings have been retained. Many single- and double-quotation marks were omitted in the original publication. Logical corrections, made from this text alone, would only compound any discrepancies and therefore such punctuation remains as printed. |
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