The Convict Poet

Read the full story of the convict poet here:

M.R.B.’s poem:

The Convict

Dark in the night, the thunders roar;
And vivid lightning flashes o'er
The blue and mighty deep;
There, 'mid howling winds descry
Tall cliffs to'wring far on high,
Majestic, bold, and steep.

Behold a vast, gigantic, rock,
Far above the billowy shock
Of rushing waters flood,
There, reckless of the mighty storm
That rages round his manly form,
A convict mournful stood.

His gaze towards that distant shore,
Which he again must ne'er see more,
His proud breast beating high;
Ah! who can tell what anguish reigns
Within that breast, as he exclaims-
"In chains then must I die!"

He cries - "Shall I no more behold
Those dearest haunts, and scenes of old,
Where oft I lov'd to roam?
No more, alas! my dreams are vain,
They're ever gone, and ne'er again
For me the joys of home."

Upon that rock, so calm, and drear,
He sank in calm but deep despair,
Exclaiming - "what remains
Dear in this world of woe to me,
When I'm bereft of liberty,
And forc'd to toll in chains."

"But no," he cries, "it must not be,
Chains ne'er again shall fetter me -
Liberty's dear to all;
I go; the deep and surging wave
Invites me to a peaceful grave,
Beneath its watery pall."

He rose - and steadfastly gazed on
The dashing spray, the stormy foam,
And billows' rushing roar;
"Farewell false world," he wildly cried,
Then plunged into the foaming tide,
And sank to rise no more.

He plunged, nor paused upon the shore,
Ere he had added one crime more
To those which stained his fame;
He plunged, with unrepenting speed,
And lost a worthless life indeed,
But left a tarnished name.