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He goes with speed; he goes with dread!
And now they 're on the hanging steep!
And, now, the living and the dead,
They 'll make the horrid leap!
The Horse stops short,—his feet are on the verge!
He stands, like marble, high above the surge.
And now they 're on the hanging steep!
And, now, the living and the dead,
They 'll make the horrid leap!
The Horse stops short,—his feet are on the verge!
He stands, like marble, high above the surge.
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