At first the speaker admires the bricklayer’s materials—sharp red bricks, white mortar—and the promise of a wall so thick and straight that neither the living nor the dead could shake it. She imagines the finished structure as a cool, quiet refuge full of dreams, a perfect sanctuary from the outside world. But the wish for absolute protection quickly darkens. The “sanctuary” she asked for becomes a sealed cell, and the speaker suddenly panics, begging the old man to leave a small chink so she can still breathe. The final outburst—“You can’t, you fool!”—exposes the trap, whether it is the builder’s refusal or the speaker’s own realization: a wall strong enough to keep everything out also locks her inside. The mood shifts from controlled, almost proud desire to claustrophobic fear, revealing how the longing for total safety can turn into a prison.
Sanctuary — Summary
This is the bricklayer; hear the thud Of his heavy load dumped down on stone. His lustrous bricks are brighter than blood, His smoking mortar whiter than bone.
Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten brick Straight by the plumb-line's shivering length; Make my marvelous wall so thick Dead nor living may shake its strength.
Full as a crystal cup with drink Is my cell with dreams, and quiet, and cool.... Stop, old man! You must leave a chink; How can I breathe? You can't, you fool!