—The pitiless walls are standing still,
But the wall-flowers blossom on every ledge,
And the wild rose garlands the walls' sheer edge,
And where once the imprisoned heart beat low,
The beautiful pigeons fly to and fro!
In the sad, stern arches they build and pair,
As happy as dreams and as free as air,
And sorrow and longing and life-long pain
Man brings not into these walls again;