Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
William Wordsworth. 17701850533. The Sonnet i
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, | 5 |
High as the highest peak of Furness fells, | |
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: | |
In truth the prison unto which we doom | |
Ourselves no prison is: and hence for me, | |
In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound | 10 |
Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground; | |
Pleased if some souls (for such there needs must be) | |
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty, | |
Should find brief solace there, as I have found. |