Blind Alley

There's a turning I must pass Often four times in a day, Narrow, rather dark, with grass Growing, a neglected way; Two long walls, a tumbled shed, Bushes shadowing each wall - When I've wondered where it led People say Nowhere at all. But if that is true, oh why Should this turning be at all? Some time, in the daylight, I Will creep up along the wall; For it somehow makes you think, It has such a secret air, It might lead you to the brink Of - oh well, of anywhere! Some time I will go. And see, Here's the turning just in sight, Full of shadows beckoning me! Some time, yes. But not to-night.