The speaker speaks to two plain indoor things: a brown window-sill and grey walls. The sill seems small, yet it holds every sky she sees, all seasons, and everything of earth that reaches her eyes. She is amazed that such a narrow frame can contain her entire visible world. The walls are different—they close her days in, and she feels her thoughts pressed into their square shape, like pebbles lost in a grey sea. There is a quiet sense of confinement here, but also a kind of wondering tenderness toward the window that lets the outside in. The mood is still, hushed, and slightly mournful, as if the speaker is measuring exactly what her small room allows her to know and feel.
Frames — Summary
Brown window-sill, you hold my all of skies, And all I know of springing year and fall, And everything of earth that greets my eyes — Brown window-sill, how can you hold it all?
Grey walls, my days are bound within your hold. Cast there and lost like pebbles in a sea; And all my thought is squared to fit your mould — Grey wall, how mighty is your masonry!