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When love with unconfinéd wings

Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings

To whisper at my grates ; When I lie tangled in her hair,

And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air

Know no such liberty.

ers.

Whate'er delight
Can make day's forehead bright
Or give down to the wings of night.
Soft silken hours,
Open suns, shady bowers;
'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.
Days, that need borrow
No part of their good morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow :
Days, that in spite
Of darkness, by the light
Of a clear mind are day all night.
Life, that dares send
A challenge to his end;
And when it comes, says,

Welcome, friend."

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take

That for a hermitage :
If I have freedom in my love,

And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above

Enjoy such liberty.

TO LUCASTA.

TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,

To war and arms I fly.

I wish her store
Of worth may leave her poor
Of wishes; and I wish — no more.

True: a new mistress now I chase,

The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace

A sword, a horse, a shield.

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“Sweet SPRING, FULL OF SWEET DAYS AND ROSES.'' – Page 31.

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