To Althea from Prison

…from the quills of dead white poets

 

Richard Lovelace (1618 – 1658)

 

When love with unconfined wings

Hovers within my gates,

And my divine Althea brings

To whisper at the gates;

When I lie tangled in her hair

And fetter’d to her eye,

The birds that wanton in the air

Know no such liberty.

 

When flowing cups run swiftly round

With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with roses crown’d,

Our hearts with loyal flames;

When thirsty grief in wine we steep,

When healths and draughts go free,

Fishes that tipple in the deep

Know no such liberty.

 

When, linnet-like confined, I

With shriller throat shall sing

The sweetness, mercy, majesty

And glories of my King;

When I shall voice aloud how good

He is, how great should be,

Enlarged winds, that curl the flood,

Know no such liberty.

 

Stone wall 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.

 

About Avadoro Worden

Iconoclast
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>