Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,
Minds innocent and quiet take
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Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage.

Fast closed with double grills
And triple gates--the cell
To wicked souls is hell;
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Fast closed with double grills
And triple gates--the cell
To wicked souls is hell;
But to a mind that's innocent
'Tis only iron, wood and stone.
[Fr., Doubles grilles a gros cloux,
Triples portes, forts verroux,
Aux ames vraiment mechantes
Vous representez l'enfer;
Mais aux ames innocentes
Vous n'etes que du bois, des pierres, du fer.]

Prison'd in a parlour snug and small,
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall.

Prison'd in a parlour snug and small,
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall.

Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can read more

Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

And as for their appearances, they four had one likeness, as if a
wheel had been in the midst read more

And as for their appearances, they four had one likeness, as if a
wheel had been in the midst of a wheel.

"And a bird-cage, sir," said Sam. "Veels vithin veels, a prison
in a prison."

"And a bird-cage, sir," said Sam. "Veels vithin veels, a prison
in a prison."

In durance vile.

In durance vile.

In durance vile here must I wake and weep,
And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.

In durance vile here must I wake and weep,
And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.

That which the world miscalls a jail,
A private closet is to me.
. . . .
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That which the world miscalls a jail,
A private closet is to me.
. . . .
Locks, bars, and solitude together met,
Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret.