She glides forth aloft the city
On a baleful counsel of winter wind,
An ashen sea of mist flowed over the sun,
Alighting flakes which idly flit and drape
With a samite shroud our customary tableau,
Which now seem but diaphanous veilings—
Some inexpressible signifiers, dissolving.
It lies heavily like sleep over the earth—
Heaped on the church's aging steeple cross,
And hazing the iron crowns of lamp-post lanterns;
Enveloping in mounds forgotten forms,
Like dolmens issuing of unnamed memory.
Such unquiet fascinations yield we here,
As un-fleshed we're sent on ways so wide, alone.
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