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One Hundred And Three

Rating: 2.6

With the frame of a man, and the face of a boy, and a manner strangely wild,
And the great, wide, wondering, innocent eyes of a silent-suffering child;
With his hideous dress and his heavy boots, he drags to Eternity—
And the Warder says, in a softened tone: ‘Keep step, One Hundred and Three.’
’Tis a ghastly travesty of drill—or a ghastly farce of work—
But One Hundred and Three, he catches step with a start, a shuffle and jerk.
’Tis slow starvation in separate cells, and a widow’s son is he,
And the widow, she drank before he was born—(Keep step, One Hundred and Three!)

They shut a man in the four-by-eight, with a six-inch slit for air,

Twenty-three hours of the twenty-four, to brood on his virtues there.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Tim Montgomery 30 September 2013

If interested read Oscar Wilde's Ballad of Reading Gaol. Very similar.

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