The Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
And whispered, “Now I shall be out of sight;
So, through the valley, and over the height,
In silence I'll take my way. ...
Even as the Blessed, at the final summons,
Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave,
Wearing again the garments of the flesh,
So, upon that celestial chariot,
A hundred rose
ad vocem tanti senis
,
Ministers and messengers of life eternal.
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