'Twas warm - at first - like Us - Until there crept upon A Chill - like frost upon a Glass - Till all the scene - be gone. The Forehead copied Stone - The Fingers grew too cold To ache - and like a Skater's Brook - The busy eyes - congealed -
It straightened - that was all - It crowded Cold to Cold - It multiplied indifference - As Pride were all it could -
And even when with Cords - 'Twas lowered, like a Freight - It made no Signal, nor demurred, But dropped like Adamant.
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