"There were sweet sounds mingled with my dreaming" [essay]
There were sweet sounds mingled with my dreaming
and a thousand airy orbs of many coloured light floated
around me, and a bright shower of silvery light fell upon me

and I started, and looked up. It was cold, very cold
and the crisp ice of the July morning shot its long
fleecy crystals over the narrow window  Break the veil
away, and look out. There was no sunshine, the Augus‐
tines of have not a perfectly clear day twelve times in
the year, yet the landscape was dazzling white with
broad sheets of pure summer snow that clung to the
rugged crags as if it loved them, and grew broader, and
deeper and whiter as it climbed up into the cloud, and
th through which it shone like a flood of sunlight
while the tall steep g crags that rose forth of it, past
away into the grey mist.