There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was the Veil through which I might not see: Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was — and then no more of Thee and Me.

There was a Door to which I found no Key
There was a Veil past which I could not see
Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE
There seemed — and then no more of THEE and ME.

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too.

We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing, unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.

All I know is a door into the dark

I knock at the stone's front door. "It's only me, let me come in."<p>"I don't have a door," says the stone.

You get lost out of a desire to be lost. But in the place called lost strange things are found...

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices And the weak spirit quickens to rebel For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell Quickens to recover The cry of quail and the whirling plover And the blind eye creates The empty forms between the ivory gates And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

The stone is broken, but the words are alive.

How can I be lost when I’ve never been found?

The stone in my hand hides
A secret natural history:
Climates and times unknown,
A river unseen.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.