I Cross Till I Am Weary, par Emily Dickinson

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?

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Emily Dickinson

I Cross Till I Am Weary

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