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Ralph Chaplin

[No Tune]


Some day a silent guard will come for me
And touch my shoulder, surely soon or late,
And lead me to the massive prison gate
And swing it wide and tell me I am free.
Will all this pass, this iron cage of hate?
Or will their shadow always lie in wait
To chill the flame of every ecstasy?
Shall I be cold from living long with death
Like one grave-wrapped, returning from the dead,
My heart a stone, the dungeon on my breath?
Or shall I thrill with sudden awe instead
And feel the terrible and strange delight
Of one long blind who is restored to sight?

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