A joyless prison-house save in name,
With waves of sweltering heat from above,—
From around each corner one meets the same!
Only ill-smelling and fetid air
Is breathed by the babies God leases there!
Not a butterfly blown from the hills of green,
Gives a hint of the wonderful life without;
Not a rainbow of promise is ever seen,—
Nothing but crime and disease about!
No vesper bell calls to praise and prayer,—