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—
