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--
(1861)