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Poem	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 we have 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 new. Three rivers and the Hill are passed -- Two deserts and the sea! Now Death usurps my Premium And gets the look at Thee.
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