|Poems by Mollie Caird (1922-2000)
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do not a prison make,
But prison is an unquiet mind;
Within a thorn hedge, for your sake,
By iron bars was I confined.
And there I sinned a sin of fear
That your love, poorer grown, and less,
Might not be strong enough, or near
Enough to pity my distress.
What many waters cannot drown
Pleads not impossibility —
You tore the iron gratings down,
Leapt orchard walls Olympus-high,
Cut through the thorns, which, in that hour
In spite of spite, broke into flower.
Green Book No.11 The first line of this poem is a quotation from 'To Althea, From Prison' by Richard Lovelace