Christina Rossetti
Shut out
The door was shut. I looked between
        Its iron bars; and saw it lie,
        My garden, mine, beneath the sky,
Pied with all flowers bedewed and green:

From bough to bough the song-birds crossed,
        From flower to flower the moths and bees;
        With all its nests and stately trees
It had been mine, and it was lost.

A shadowless spirit kept the gate,
        Blank and unchanging like the grave.
        I peering through said: "Let me have
Some buds to cheer my outcast state."

He answered not. "Or give me, then,
        But one small twig from shrub or tree;
        And bid my home remember me
Until I come to it again."

The spirit was silent; but he took
         Mortar and stone to build a wall;
         He left no loophole great or small
Through which my straining eyes might look:

So now I sit here quite alone
        Blinded with tears; nor grieve for that,
        For naught is left worth looking at
Since my delightful land is gone.
A violet bed is budding near,
        Wherein a lark has made her nest:
        And good they are, but not the best;
And dear they are, but not so dear.