To Althea, From Prison
When love, with unconfined wings,
Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fetter'd to her eye--
The birds that wanton in the air,
Know no such liberty.
* * * * *
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage.
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,--
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
Richard Lovelace (1618–1657)
