Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
      Yes, to the very end
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
     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.

An excerpt from the poem UP-HILL by Christina Rossetti

As read from Harold Bloom’s Stories and Poems for Extremely Intelligent Children of All Ages.

Bloom, Harold. Stories and Poems for Extremely Intelligent Children of All Ages. United States, Scribner, 2002. pg 568