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1862–1937

A MEETING

Edith Wharton

ON a sheer peak of joy we meet; Below us hums the abyss; Death either way allures our feet If we take one step amiss.

One moment let us drink the blue Transcendent air together — Then down where the same old work's to do In the same dull daily weather.

We may not wait... yet look below! How part? On this keen ridge But one may pass. They call you — go! My life shall be your bridge.

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A MEETING · Edith Wharton · Poetry Cove