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101
101
PREFATORY SONNET.
-
jNuns fret not at their Convent's narrow room;
And
Hermits are contented with their Cells;
And
Students with their pensive Citadels
Maids
at the
Sit blithe
High
Wheel, the Weaver
and happy ; Bees that soar
as the highest
Peak of Furness
Will murmur by the hour In
at his
truth, the prison, unto
Ourselves, no prison
is
in
for
Loom, bloom,
Fells,
Foxglove
bells
which we doom
and hence
to
me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty Pleas'd if
Who
some Souls
have
felt
(for
plot of ground
such there needs must be)
the weight of too
much
Should find short solace there, as
I
liberty,
have found.
