Poem: “Up-Hill” by Christina Rossetti

Does the road wind up up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole day long?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall we meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then I must knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you waiting at the door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore, and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.