Arise, O my soul
Though heavy beams
Crush thee darkly

Hear the voices calling
From the tombs calling
Calling back to me

O Sampson! recall
All will be torn under
And rent asunder

Why do you sleep
Deep, O written letter
Unspoken, blot of ink

Here the author's pen
Writes and writes again
But speaks not when

When shall I arise?
My eyes, I see the word
Written, 'here is I.'

The end draws near
And here I consume
My hours with why

The sense is pleasant
But sent yet young,
Still I am numb

The feelings become of worry
And hurry I must, one
Who sleeps, and run.

"Will I be confounded?"
Resounded, this spoken;
A spell was broken

Sightless thing where
Bring you this terror
Or this despair?

So as real is my climb
Hand over hand I climb
Light day, ancient world

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