Page:The Single Hound; poems of a lifetime.djvu/183

 Rh 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.