One scrambling fall, one shriek, one call, from
the men that stand and stare,—
Black in the blue, where the sky looks thro', he
staggers, dwarfd up there;
The edge he touches, then sinks, and clutches
the rock—our eyes grow dim—
I turn away—what's that they say?—he's hang-
ing on to the brim!
... On the very brink of the fatal chink a
ragged shrub there grew,