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Poem	1 AS the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud, A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me. I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will suddenly cease. 2 O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this? Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?... And yet it is enough, O soul! O soul! we have positively appear’d—that is enough.
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