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. 10 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: 20 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. SOUND SLEEP Some are laughing, some are weeping; She is sleeping, only sleeping. Round her rest wild flowers are creeping; There the wind is heaping, heaping Sweetest sweets of Summer's keeping. By the corn-fields ripe for reaping. There are lilies, and there blushes The deep rose, and there the thrushes Sing till latest sunlight flushes In the west; a fresh wind brushes 10 Through the leaves while evening hushes. There by day the lark is singing And the grass and weeds are springing; There by night the bat is winging; There for ever winds are bringing Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing. Night and morning, noon and even, Their sound fills her dreams with Heaven: The long strife at lent is striven: Till her grave-bands shall be riven 20 Such is the good portion given To her soul at rest and shriven. SONG She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam. I sat and wept alway Beneath the moon's most shadowy beam, Watching the blossoms of the May Weep leaves into the stream. I wept for memory; She sang for hope that is so fair: 10 My tears were swallowed by the sea; Her songs died on the air. SONG When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; 10 I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. DEAD BEFORE DEATH Sonnet