Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,
Minds innocent and quiet take
read more

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

That which the world miscalls a jail,
A private closet is to me.
. . . .
read more

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.

I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world;
And, read more

I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world;
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.

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.

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.

In durance vile.

In durance vile.

Whene'er with haggard eyes I view
This dungeon that I'm rotting in,
I think of those companions read more

Whene'er with haggard eyes I view
This dungeon that I'm rotting in,
I think of those companions true
Who studied with me at the U-
Niversity of Gottingen.
- George Canning, Song--Of One Eleven Years in Prison,

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.