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Robert Browning - A Wall
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O the old wall here! How I could pass
  Life in a long midsummer day,
My feet confined to a plot of grass,
  My eyes from a wall not once away!

And lush and lithe do the creepers clothe
  Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green:
Its bald red bricks draped, nothing loath,
  In lappets of tangle they laugh between.

Now, what is it makes pulsate the robe?
  Why tremble the sprays? What life o`erbrims                                
The body,--the house no eye can probe,--
  Divined, as beneath a robe, the limbs?

And there again! But my heart may guess
  Who tripped behind; and she sang, perhaps:
So the old wall throbbed, and its life`s excess
  Died out and away in the leafy wraps.

Wall upon wall are between us: life
  And song should away from heart to heart!
I--prison-bird, with a ruddy strife
  At breast, and a lip whence storm-notes start--                            

Hold on, hope hard in the subtle thing
  That`s spirit: tho` cloistered fast, soar free;
Account as wood, brick, stone, this ring
  Of the rueful neighbours, and--forth to thee!
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