curiosity and the faint, unrecognised apprehension that here,
at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others,
I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed
and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked
by any window, in the heart of that grey city.
vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones
along the weary road that others have tramped before us;
perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes
falls between us springs from disappointment in our search,
each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a
glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner
always a pace or two ahead of us."