no mysteries are hidden on the slope
for us to find we have the truth outright
together with cold rain in the long night
and messages that indicate the scope
of all our troubles is within the grope
of each small hand although the chance is slight
that we will make the climb yet to requite
anger for wrong would be to deny hope
what we are given may not seem like much
but what we had before was set to fail
to make a mob out of a human crowd
destroy each thing that came under its touch
now we have ended that unhappy tale
and a fresh breeze is clearing the last cloud
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