I did not reach thee,
But my feet slip nearer every day;
Three Rivers and a Hill to cross,
One Desert and a Sea — I shall not count the journey one
W… - Emily Dickinson
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I did not reach thee, But my feet slip nearer every day; Three Rivers and a Hill to cross, One Desert and a Sea — I shall not count the journey one When I am telling thee.
Two deserts — but the year is cold So that will help the sand — One desert crossed, the second one Will feel as cool as land. Sahara is too little price To pay for thy Right hand!
The sea comes last. Step merry, feet! So short have we to go To play together we are prone, But we must labor now, The last shall be the lightest load That we have had to draw.
The Sun goes crooked — that is night — Before he makes the bend We must have passed the middle sea, Almost we wish the end Were further off — too great it seems So near the Whole to stand.
We step like plush, we stand like snow — The waters murmur now, Three rivers and the hill are passed, Two deserts and the sea! Now Death usurps my premium And gets the look at Thee.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Virtually unknown in her lifetime, Dickinson has come to be regarded as one of the greatest American poets of the 19th century. Although she wrote (at latest count) 1789 poems, only a few of them were published in her lifetime, all anonymously, and some perhaps without her knowledge.
I don't know which it is - I only know that when you shall come back again, the Earth will seem more beautiful, and bigger than it does now, and the blue sky from the window will be all dotted with gold - though it may not be evening, or time for the stars to come.
Are nothing to the bee; His separation from his rose To him seems misery.
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