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Over time I have observed
In fine verses walls preserved.
References that is to those
Which divided woods from rose
Gardens or perhaps a field –
Mowed, the sweetest hay to yield.
Walls stacked high with blocks or bricks;
Others packed with rocks and sticks.
Walls dressed neat or overgrown.
Walls that framed the tilled soil sown.
Walls that stirred the poet’s heart.
Walls that kept well-matched apart.
Many walls alas are lost –
Burnt by fires or cracked by frost,
But it seems that as one falls
Others rise – for men need walls.