Nets to Catch the Wind — Sanctuary

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't, you fool!

_