Walt Whitman: The Singer in the Prison
The DayPoems Poetry Collection
Timothy Bovee, editor
www.daypoems.net



  Click on the bonsai for the next poem.



DayPoems Forum

Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch. DayPoems Forum.

DayPoems Front

Poetry Whirl
  Walt Whitman in Wikipedia
  Google Walt Whitman
  Latest Poetry News

Indexes
  Poems
  Poets
  Editor's poems
  Poetry Places

Poetry Places
  Consuelo is Dead
  Selected Poetry of Charles G. D. Roberts (1860-1943)
  Mariola's Poems
  Daniel's Poetry
  Paintbrush: A Journal of Poetry & Translation
  From "A Tomb for Anatole"

Nodes powered by
Open Directory Project<br>at dmoz.org
Open Directory Project at dmoz.org


DayPoems Favorites

  PORT: An Online Visual Arts Journal
  A Poet on a Magical Journey Home
  Chronicles of a Sea Woman
  Parallels Studio
  Bipolar Poetry
  Mantra.X
  Poetry, Film and Books
  Poetry Archive

  Project Gutenberg, a huge collection of books as text, produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990. This is the source of the first poetry placed on DayPoems.
  Tina Blue's Beginner's Guide to Prosody, exactly what the title says, and well worth reading.
  Epicanthic Fold: "If a guy somewhere in Asia makes a blog and no one reads it, does it really exist?"
  popomo.net, miniature, minimalist-inspired sculptures created from industrial cereamics, an art project at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon.
  pink.popomo.net, More projects from Portland
  oarena.net, Furby, Eliza, Mr_Friss and Miss_Friss.
  Save Point 0.8.1, a Portland, Oregon, exhibit, Aug. 13-Sept. 5, 2004, at Disjecta.




D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

*
D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

*
D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

*
D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

*
D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

*
D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

*
D
a
y
P
o
e
m
s

Click here!
Won't you help support DayPoems?

The Singer in the Prison

1819-1892


O sight of pity, shame and dole!
O fearful thought--a convict soul.

1

Rang the refrain along the hall, the prison,
Rose to the roof, the vaults of heaven above,
Pouring in floods of melody in tones so pensive sweet and strong the
like whereof was never heard,
Reaching the far-off sentry and the armed guards, who ceas'd their pacing,
Making the hearer's pulses stop for ecstasy and awe.

2

The sun was low in the west one winter day,
When down a narrow aisle amid the thieves and outlaws of the land,
(There by the hundreds seated, sear-faced murderers, wily counterfeiters,
Gather'd to Sunday church in prison walls, the keepers round,
Plenteous, well-armed, watching with vigilant eyes,)
Calmly a lady walk'd holding a little innocent child by either hand,
Whom seating on their stools beside her on the platform,
She, first preluding with the instrument a low and musical prelude,
In voice surpassing all, sang forth a quaint old hymn.

A soul confined by bars and bands,
Cries, help! O help! and wrings her hands,
Blinded her eyes, bleeding her breast,
Nor pardon finds, nor balm of rest.

Ceaseless she paces to and fro,
O heart-sick days! O nights of woe!
Nor hand of friend, nor loving face,
Nor favor comes, nor word of grace.

It was not I that sinn'd the sin,
The ruthless body dragg'd me in;
Though long I strove courageously,
The body was too much for me.

Dear prison'd soul bear up a space,
For soon or late the certain grace;
To set thee free and bear thee home,
The heavenly pardoner death shall come.

Convict no more, nor shame, nor dole!
Depart--a God-enfranchis'd soul!

3

The singer ceas'd,
One glance swept from her clear calm eyes o'er all those upturn'd faces,
Strange sea of prison faces, a thousand varied, crafty, brutal,
seam'd and beauteous faces,
Then rising, passing back along the narrow aisle between them,
While her gown touch'd them rustling in the silence,
She vanish'd with her children in the dusk.

While upon all, convicts and armed keepers ere they stirr'd,
(Convict forgetting prison, keeper his loaded pistol,)
A hush and pause fell down a wondrous minute,
With deep half-stifled sobs and sound of bad men bow'd and moved to weeping,
And youth's convulsive breathings, memories of home,
The mother's voice in lullaby, the sister's care, the happy childhood,
The long-pent spirit rous'd to reminiscence;
A wondrous minute then--but after in the solitary night, to many,
many there,
Years after, even in the hour of death, the sad refrain, the tune,
the voice, the words,
Resumed, the large calm lady walks the narrow aisle,
The wailing melody again, the singer in the prison sings,

O sight of pity, shame and dole!
O fearful thought--a convict soul.


Back to top

DayPoems Poem No. 2073



Comment on DayPoems?

If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at DayPoems Feedback.



Won't you help support DayPoems?


Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web . . .


Copyright

The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2005 by Timothy K. Bovee. All rights reserved.

The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors.

Google DayPoems


Support DayPoems.

Buy your books here

Latest Chapbooks from Powells!!!

 
Search:
Keywords:
In Association with Amazon.com







Bonsai courtesy of
The Online Bonsai Icon Collection
http://www.hav.com/tobic.html