Once the garden's gates have closed shut on you, you can wander many years, many lives, like Franz, (like Thai ?) before finding the back door that will get you back in. (You can get back in...)
From Gerard Manley Hopkins, one of the 20th century's greatest, almost unknown poets who was unpublished (I think) during his lifetime. Hopkins had an idiosyncratic, intimate relation to language, and he knew where he was going with/in his poetry.
Spring and Fall : to a young child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving ?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you ?
Ah ! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie ;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now, no matter, child, the name :
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed :
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for. (1880)
Thai, an example of metaphor : Hell's neologism "banksties".