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.