The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1915-10-28
5 WaySide MeditatiOns
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A Prison SoIIoquy


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Lonely sad hearted, memory tortured and fororn
sit in prison solitude, and ponder
Ger the tragedies of life
1 wonder
Ii in some far off cline, far removed from
Blue gray walls of steel-b barred cells
There still are those in whose hearts
The milk of human-kindness'
Has not curdled it's source
wonder
If there still mothers in whose ewes
The circumambent flame of love divine
Maternal love- is glowing as they with holy rapture
Enfold unto their bosom, wherein is joy
-Unspeakable and full of glory-their babe
DetY's golden weld of the bonds of sacred union
1 wonder
If in far distant land
We who by prison walls and bars are fast inclosed
Do measure distance in years, and not in metric scale
Years that swiftly sped away in yester-time
But now seem remote-years of the dim
And distant future yet unborn.
I wonder
If in this far off land of distant years.
The aurora blush of early morn
Fresh tins the eastern horizon with rosy hue;
And if the Solar Empress of the realm of light
Rises in quiet dignity and in silent supreme power
Disperses the darkling folds of night
We, surrounded here
By cold and unresponsive walls of stone
Catch but eetng glimpse of heavens supreme luminary
AS she in MONDAY splendor passes Ger
The high towering walls of this Sepulchre of State
Wherein animated corpses La Criminia,
No less dead than they DER whose head
Has been erected shafts of polished MARBLE
And on whose graves flowers are laid,
And tears of sorrow furnish moisture for the soil
From which springs forth Natures courteous Offering
The emerald velvet sward upon which kneel they
Who come to mourn their dead.
We behold not the beauty of the rising sum-
Nor do as in days of yore stand upon
Some lofty crag, or high towering mountain peak
Enraptured by the splendor of the view,
AS the descending bathed in golden
OF supernal beauty, the landscape; with amorous
Embrace kissed the crested of the mighty Deep
l wonder
Ii the same effulgent glory attends her she
TransceDds the heavens hers in those
For us, more suspicious days. The meagre rays
That do from time to time find ingress into this
Prison tomb, seem but pale and faint reminders
OF departed splendor and of glory lost.
l wonder
If there still cooling babes and prattling children,
Who perennial spring of joy transcendant.
Whose laughter is slver-toned melody
Wrought from celestial harps.
l wonder
If beyond these barbados of stone and STEEL
There still hearts wherein the light of happiness
And joy has waned and faces whereon transcribed
The tell-tale pallor of living death.
| wonder
If there regions in this vast universe of God,
Where to smile is not a felony, where courtesy
Is crime. Where kindly word of cheer
Or comfort-spoken to one in dire distress.
And whose soul in mortal anguish
Constituteth objectionable offense
I wonder
If there still are among the children of men,
In busy marts of trade and traffic,
In quiet hamlet. waysde village
Or in sequestered farmstead
Beside winding country road -
Those within whose bosom the fountain of sympathy
Still is flowing: who cen tho themselves be free
From dross of sin, not blinded by over-much
Righteousness self-esteem.
But who