The precipice
The fall, un-fell...
                      To cliffs, successful cling.
                       I see the sea,
                       its foaming maw,
                       wide open, just for me.

                       To step or not to step,
but there cannot be a question.*
                       Face is pale and rope is frail,
                       "REPEL!" The crowd does jeer.
                       But I can't expel the fear;

                       For if I succeed--cling till I die--
                       or tie my noose right here,
                       the end result is clear.

                       Must cliffs be so sheer?