Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/266

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Ever it pineth to regain

That liberty whereof ’tis fain;

Its food it treads beneath its feet,

And ’gainst the bars its wings doth beat,

And up and down its prison goes

From daylight’s dawn till twilight’s close.

Seeking its passage to make good

Through door or window to the wood.

And every woman doth possess

Within her that same restlessness,

Whatever her condition be,

Matron or maid; unceasingly

One only thought hath she in mind,

Which is, how she may some way find

Her ancient liberty to get,

Thereon, ’fore all, her heart is set.

And so it is with every wight

Who hath him in a cloister pight,

For so he feels repentance’ pang

That almost he for rage would hang

Himself, he hath but one desire,

Which burneth up his heart like fire;

He pants once more for liberty,

And vain the struggle findeth he

With change of frock to change his bent

For worldly pleasure;—sacrament

And holy vows are nought to him.

E’en so a foolish fish doth swim

Within a net, whose mouth is wide

For entry, but when once inside.