Apprehensions, by Sylvia Plath

There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself- Infinite, green, utterly untouchable. Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also. They are my medium. The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights. A grey wall now, clawed and bloody. Is...

The Garden Wall, by Denise Levertov

Bricks of the wall, so much older than the house — taken I think from a farm pulled down when the street was built -— narrow bricks of another century. Modestly, though laid with panels and parapets, a wall behind the flowers – roses and hollyhocks, the silver...

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