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1875–1928

The Passer-By

Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

WE are as children in a field at play Beside a road whose way we do not know, Save that somewhere it meets the end of day. Upon the road there is a Passer-By

Who, pausing, beckons one of us — and lo! Quickly he goes, nor stays to tell us why. One day I shall look up and see him there Beckoning me, and with the Passer-By

I, too, shall take the road — I wonder where?

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The Passer-By · Isabel Ecclestone Mackay · Poetry Cove