Monday, 14 January 2008

Moss on a wall - still life

The Wall - a poem by Mary Stewart
I built myself a garden wall
Against the robber, Love,
With rose-entangled moat below
And thorns above.
I planted beds of hellebore,
Foxgloves and aconite,
And hedges thick of poison yew
That killed the light.
My trees stood up against the sun,
So black, so thick, so tall,
That safe I thought to sleep behind
My garden wall.
But oh! he stole in the still night
To spoil my garden's pride,
And saw no wall, for all the gates
Were open, wide.