Frames

Brown window-sill, you hold my all of skies,
And all I know of springing year and fall,
And everything of earth that greets my eyes —
Brown window-sill, how can you hold it all?

Grey walls, my days are bound within your hold,
Cast there and lost like pebbles in a sea;
And all my thought is squared to fit your mould —
Grey wall, how mighty is your masonry!