In The Prison Pen
Listless he eyes the palisades And sentries in the glare; 'Tis barren as a pelican-beach But his world is ended there. Nothing to do; and vacant hands Bring on the idiot-pain; He tries to think--to recollect, But the blur is on his brain. Around him swarm the plaining ghosts Like those on Virgil's shore-- A wilderness of faces dim, And pale ones gashed and hoar. A smiting sun. No shed, no tree; He totters to his lair-- A den that sick hands dug in earth Ere famine wasted there, Or, dropping in his place, he swoons, Walled in by throngs that press, Till forth from the throngs they bear him dead-- Dead in his meagreness.
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"Listless he eyes the palisades..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Herman Melville delivers a powerful performance in "In The Prison Pen"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...