Emily Dickinson

I Cross Till I Am Weary

poem 550

I cross till I am weary A Mountain in my mind More Mountains then a Sea More Seas And then A Desert find And My Horizon blocks With steady drifting Grains Of unconjectured quantity As Asiatic Rains Nor this defeat my Pace It hinder from the West But as an Enemy’s Salute One hurrying to Rest What merit had the Goal Except there intervene Faint Doubt and far Competitor To jeopardize the Gain? At last the Grace in sight I shout unto my feet I offer them the Whole of Heaven The instant that we meet They strive and yet delay They perish Do we die Or is this Death’s Experiment Reversed in Victory?

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