The Anatomy of Suicide

by Forbes Winslow

And there’s a courage which grows out of fear,

Perhaps of all most desperate, which will dare

The worst to know it:—when the mountains rear

Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there

You look down o’er the precipice, and drear

The gulf of rock yawns,—you can’t gaze a minute

Without an awful wish to plunge within it!

’Tis true, you don’t—but, pale and struck with terror,

Retire: but look into your past impression!