Collected English Verse — Richard Lovelace. b. 1618, d. 1658 (Part 2 of 2)

The joys of earth and air are thine entire,
   That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly;
And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire
   To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.

Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom’st then,
   Sport’st in the gilt plaits of his beams,
And all these merry days mak’st merry men,
   Thyself, and melancholy streams.

357   To Althea, from Prison

WHEN Love with unconfinàed wings
   Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
   To whisper at the grates;
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 bound,
   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, like committed linnets, 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,
Enlargàed winds, that curl the flood,
   Know no such liberty.

Stone walls 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.