Strong as the bridge as they call Pul-i-Katûn!
For Meshed's champion tailor-man is dead
Unless his wounded pride be succoured soon."
Launched on the seaward slope the pilgrims went
On to the gulf, and heard, athwart the dim
Night echoing, a sufferer's lament
And Dreamer-of-the-Age consoling him:
"The night fits down on the desert, brother;
We are drawn there-through like a piece of thread.
The steepened sky and the vastness smother