WALLED quiet from the din, So near, of worldly strife; A cloistered peace within, A life apart from life. Shrines bowered in roses sweet, And in a hidden dell Worn by accustomed feet, A holy well. Along the ancient wall Fruit basking in the sun; Flowers radiant and tall -- A coquette every one. Bees busy on the stalks, Birds mating in the weeds -- Here a pale Sister walks, Telling her beads. High walls to shut aside The world's dear bliss and care! O Birds, your nestlings hide In sanctuary there. High walls to her, to me -- But ah! to wings, how low; Blest little Birds, quite free To come -- and go! |