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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 tethered, hands fettered
Fast to the stone,
The grim walls, square lettered
With prisoned men's groan.
Still strain the banner-poles
Through the wind's song,
Westward the banner rolls
Over my wrong. |
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