nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room - sir cedric hardwicke lyrics
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nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room;
and hermits are contented with their cells;
and students with their pensive citadels;
maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom
sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom
high as the highest peak of furness*fells
will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
in truth the prison, into which we doom
ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me
in sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound
within the sonnet’s scanty plot of ground;
pleased if some souls (for such therе needs must be)
who have felt thе weight of too much liberty
should find brief solace there, as i have found
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