As I went down the hill along the wall <br />There was a gate I had leaned at for the view <br />And had just turned from when I first saw you <br />As you came up the hill. We met. But all <br />We did that day was mingle great and small <br />Footprints in summer dust as if we drew <br />The figure of our being less than two <br />But more than one as yet. Your parasol <br />Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust. <br />And all the time we talked you seemed to see <br />Something down there to smile at in the dust. <br />(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!) <br />Afterward I went past what you had passed <br />Before we met and you what I had passed.<br /><br />Robert Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/meeting-and-passing/
