1The door was shut. I looked between
2Its iron bars; and saw it lie,
3My garden, mine, beneath the sky,
4Pied with all flowers bedewed and green:
5From bough to bough the song-birds crossed,
6From flower to flower the moths and bees;
7With all its nests and stately trees
8It had been mine, and it was lost.
9A shadowless spirit kept the gate,
10Blank and unchanging like the grave.
11I peering through said: "Let me have
12Some buds to cheer my outcast state."
13He answered not. "Or give me, then,
14But one small twig from shrub or tree;
15And bid my home remember me
16Until I come to it again."
17The spirit was silent; but he took
18Mortar and stone to build a wall;
19He left no loophole great or small
20Through which my straining eyes might look:
21So now I sit here quite alone
22Blinded with tears; nor grieve for that,
23For nought is left worth looking at
24Since my delightful land is gone.
25A violet bed is budding near,
26Wherein a lark has made her nest:
27And good they are, but not the best;
28And dear they are, but not so dear.
1The door was shut. I looked between
2Its iron bars; and saw it lie,
3My garden, mine, beneath the sky,
4Pied with all flowers bedewed and green:
5From bough to bough the song-birds crossed,
6From flower to flower the moths and bees;
7With all its nests and stately trees
8It had been mine, and it was lost.
9A shadowless spirit kept the gate,
10Blank and unchanging like the grave.
11I peering through said: "Let me have
12Some buds to cheer my outcast state."
13He answered not. "Or give me, then,
14But one small twig from shrub or tree;
15And bid my home remember me
16Until I come to it again."
17The spirit was silent; but he took
18Mortar and stone to build a wall;
19He left no loophole great or small
20Through which my straining eyes might look:
21So now I sit here quite alone
22Blinded with tears; nor grieve for that,
23For nought is left worth looking at
24Since my delightful land is gone.
25A violet bed is budding near,
26Wherein a lark has made her nest:
27And good they are, but not the best;
28And dear they are, but not so dear.
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.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Rossetti at the Victorian Web — Visit the Victorian Web to find a treasure trove of information on Rossetti.
A Brief Biography — Read the Poetry Foundation's short essay on Rossetti's life and work.
The Poem Aloud — Listen to a reading of the poem.
A Contemporary Response — Read critic William Sharp's admiring reminiscence of Rossetti, written not long after her death.
Portraits of Rossetti — See some images of Rossetti via London's National Portrait Gallery.