THE WOMEN PRISONERS.

My sisters, Oh, my sisters, in your gowns of dismal gray
I've seen you herd, like chickens, in a foolish, patient way--
And I, a cruel and wicked man, with twenty years to do
Would serve that many more to help a single one of you.

I have seen the tears, my sisters, that cloud your weary eyes;
I have felt the weight of great dispair that on your spirit lies--
And seven hundred men living with me behind these walls of woe
Would die to help just one of you because you suffer so.

My sisters, Oh, my sisters, the world is big and wide;
And somewhere there is rest for you and hands to safely guide;
Beyond the judge and jury and beyond the haunting fear
Is hope--because the gentle God takes note of you in here!

#