Emily Dickinson

I cross till I am weary

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?