On A Grave At Grindelwald

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Here let us leave him; for his shroud the snow,
  For funeral-lamps he has the planets seven,
For a great sign the icy stair shall go
  Between the heights to heaven.

One moment stood he as the angels stand,
  High in the stainless eminence of air;
The next, he was not, to his fatherland
  Translated unaware.

© Frederick Wiliam Henry Myers