SANCTUARY

This is the bricklayer; hear the thud

Of his heavy load dumped down on stone.

His lustrous bricks are brighter than blood,

His smoking mortar whiter than bone.

Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten brick

Straight by the plumb-line's shivering length;

Make my marvelous wall so thick

Dead nor living may shake its strength.

Full as a crystal cup with drink

Is my cell with dreams, and quiet, and cool....

Stop, old man! You must leave a chink;

How can I breathe? You can n't, you fool!