In the beginning it was amazing
And in the later a terrible fear
When for imagining the tremor
It lacerated to the splendorous
The intense brightness of blaze
That I felt as intending to possess
For the pale vanity of believing
That I was the master of the craft
That he had still not departed
Toward a destiny to that constancy
That would cover with excellence
To one who without pretending
Would get to attain the distance
Between the created and produced.
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