Poems (Rossetti, 1901)/Shut Out
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 nought 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.