| From every depth of good and ill
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| The mystery which binds me still:
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| From the torrent, or the fountain
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| From the red cliff of the mountain
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| From the sun that round me rolled
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| In its autumn tint of gold
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| From the lightning in the sky
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| As it passed me flying by
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| From the thunder and the storm
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| And the cloud that took the form
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| From the same source I have not taken
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| My sorrow; |
| I could not awaken
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| My heart to joy at the same tone;
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| And all I loved, I loved alone
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| On the brink of the abyss
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| With a blindfold tied tight
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| Should I step into the mist
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| Or retreat back to the light?
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| I don’t know what is in there
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| Whether it be ground or a fall
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| I don’t know if I shall dare
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| To take the step and risk it all… |