O the old wall here! How I could pass br Life in a long midsummer day, br My feet confined to a plot of grass, br My eyes from a wall not once away! br br And lush and lithe do the creepers clothe br Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green: br Its bald red bricks draped, nothing loath, br In lappets of tangle they laugh between. br br Now, what is it makes pulsate the robe? br Why tremble the sprays? What life o'erbrims br The body,--the house no eye can probe,-- br Divined, as beneath a robe, the limbs? br br And there again! But my heart may guess br Who tripped behind; and she sang, perhaps: br So the old wall throbbed, and its life's excess br Died out and away in the leafy wraps.