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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=475877" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Prison Bell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again <br>Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain. <br>Its sad sound seems to me to be a deathwail from the past, <br>An elegy for buried joys too pure and bright to last. <br>It haunts me like an echo from the dark depths of despair, <br>And conjures up the fiend-like forms of misery and care; <br>The saddest of the sorrowful, its tones bright dreams dispel, <br>For waking woes are summoned by the harsh-toned prison bell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It tells me that I am not now what once I used to be, <br>A dearly loved and loving boy whose heart was light with glee; <br>It tells me that life's coming years must be long years of pain, <br>And that my brow with innocence can ne'er be wreathed again: <br>That I must wander through this world all friendless and forlorn, <br>Unsolaced by affection's smile, the thing of shame and scorn. <br>Those fearful tones, those dirge-like tones, what fearful tales they tell! <br>It rings the death of hope and joy, that sadly sounding bell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How oft when some bright vision of the days of olden time <br>Comes o'er me like an angel dream from heaven's own hallowed clime, <br>And beautiful and holy things - the bright stars and the flowers, <br>And childhood's prayer - were dear to me as in life's sinless hours. <br>How oft, too, when in such dreams I wander by the side <br>Of one fair form whom virtue might have won me for my bride, <br>They come, those tones so horrible, those drear tones through my cell, <br>And memory shuddereth to hear the harsh-toned prison bell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That bell! - how many hear it sound who've ceased to struggle long, <br>Who, reckless of crime's after doom, have linked themselves to wrong; <br>And heard it is with shuddering and tearful vain regret <br>By those who for one first bad act for years must suffer yet. <br>'Tis also sadly heard by some strange-struggling beings who <br>Cling to the false and evil while they love the good and true; <br>And some - a few - all innocent, who've learned, alas! Too well <br>That man's best judgement sometimes errs, may weep to hear that bell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've heard it when bright memories have crowded to my brain, <br>When hopes and aspirations high have whispering come again;<br>And it hath sought to crush each thought that fain would save from ill. <br>As wildly it hath chanted forth, 'Despair; be evil still.' <br>But no, a prison oft hath proved a holy place of yore, <br>And if the heart yearns for the good, God will the good restore, <br>Then courage soul: let faith's bright beams grief's darksome shades dispel, <br>And days of joy may yet be thine far from the prison bell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Owen+Suffolk">Owen Suffolk</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=475877" data-title="The Prison Bell de Owen Suffolk" data-description="Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again 
Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain. 
Its sad sound seems to me to be a deathwail from the past, 
An elegy for buried joys too pure and bright to last. 
It haunts me like a..."></div>
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