To Althea, from Prison

When love with unconfined wings
. . . Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
. . . To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair
. . . And fettered 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 thirst grief in wine we steep,
. . . When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the deep
. . . 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.