'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.

...' by Christina Rossetti

'And moving through a mirror clear
That hands before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
            Winding down to Camelot.'

by Alfred Tennyson