Meeting and Passing
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.
The hill in the first stanza has many ways one can go up and down it; I assume a gate implies that a path runs perpendicular to the path our speaker is on. It is then quite remarkable that he finds someone on the exact same path he is on, and that seems to be the prelude to love. Love is depicted in the first stanza as continual turning: he turns and discovers her, the mingling of footprints suggests that they are walking in circles, around and around a section of the hill – incidentally, Purgatory, in the Divine Comedy, is a mountain one walks up to get to Paradise (more on Frost and Dante).
The turning of summer walks, though, changes with in the second stanza; the parasol points, not merely circles, and it demands a unity that is not to be. I wonder if she is younger than he; she’s coming up the hill as he’s coming down, yet her face is pointed downward, like she knows something – or believes something – he doesn’t. She wants whatever is at the top, which might be connected with what she smiles at in the dust. He, on the other hand is returning to the earthly, and knows her love was not True, not because she wasn’t sincere, but precisely because she was sincere.