ΣΟΝΕΤΤΑ ΓΙΑ ΤΟ ΣΟΝΕΤΤΟ 3

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850)


NUNS FRET NOT AT TEIR CONVENT’S NARROW ROOM

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,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom

Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
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.