That after Horror’—that ’twas us’—
That passed the mouldering Pier’—
Just as the Granite Crumb let go’—
Our Savior, by a Hair’—
A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb’—
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb’—
The possibility’—to pass
Without a Moment’s Bell’—
Into Conjecture’s presence’—
Is like a Face of Steel’—
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin’—
The Cordiality of Death’—
Who drills his Welcome in’—

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