Explore "At the Last" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WHERE are you-you whose loving breath / Alone can stay my soul from death? / The world's so wide, I seek it through, / Yet-dare I dream to win to you? / Perhaps your dear desirèd feet / Pass me in this grey muddy street.
Your face, it may be, has its shrine / In that dull house that's next to mine.
But I believe, O Life, O Fate, / That when I call on Death and wait / One moment at the unclosing gate / I shall turn back for one last gaze / Along the trampled, sordid ways, / And in the sunset see at last, / Just as the barred gate holds me fast, / Your face, your face, too late.