it was not death for i stood up and all the dead lie down it was not night for all the bells put out their tongues for noon it was not frost for on my flesh i felt sirocoscrawl nor firefor just my marble feet could keep a chancel cool and yet it tasted like them all the figures i have seen set orderly for burial reminded me of mine as if my life were shaven and fitted to a frame and could not breathe without a key and twas like midnight some when everything that tickedhas stopped and space stares all around or grisly frostsfirst autumn morns repeal the beating ground but most like chaosstoplesscool without a chance or spar or even a report of land to justifydespair2