Landscape

There may not be the space to see
Beyond the street on which I stand;
The high-thrown wall envelope me
And block my view at every hand.
My vision then cannot embrace
The distant vista far or wide
I see a cramped and confined space
In which a million visions hide.
There crawls an insect, in whose eyes
The street around me is a plain;
And there above a seagull flies
Until returning to the main
While I look out and up, around
At everything except the ground.