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.