A Meeting

by Edith Wharton

　　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.