Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HONOUR DISHONOURED, by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT



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IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HONOUR DISHONOURED, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Honoured I lived e'erwhile with honoured men
Last Line: Fences our weakness from the wolves of old!
Subject(s): Dishonor; Prisons & Prisoners; Convicts


Honoured I lived e'erwhile with honoured men
In opulent state. My table nightly spread
Found guests of worth, peer, priest and citizen,
And poet crowned, and beauty garlanded.
Nor these alone, for hunger too I fed,
And many a lean tramp and sad Magdalen
Passed from my doors less hard for sake of bread.
Whom grudged I ever purse or hand or pen?

To-night, unwelcomed at these gates of woe
I stand with churls, and there is none to greet
My weariness with smile or courtly show
Nor, though I hunger long, to bring me meat.
God! what a little accident of gold
Fences our weakness from the wolves of old!





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