A prison is a convent without God. <br />Poverty, Chastity, Obedience <br />Its precepts are. In this austere abode <br />None gather wealth of pleasure or of pence. <br />Woman's light wit, the heart's concupiscence <br />Are banished here. At the least warder's nod <br />Thy neck shall bend in mute subservience. <br />Nor yet for virtue--rather for the rod. <br /> <br />Here a base turnkey novice--master is, <br />Teaching humility. The matin bell <br />Calls thee to toil, but little comforteth. <br />None heed thy prayers or give the kiss of peace. <br />Nathless, my soul, be valiant. Even in Hell <br />Wisdom shall preach to thee of life and death.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-convent-wothout-god/
