(no subject)

[proximoception]

from "Alice Doane's Appeal", Hawthorne

The moon was bright on high;
the blue firmament appeared to glow with an inherent brightness;
the greater stars were burning in their spheres;
the northern lights threw their mysterious glare far over the horizon;
the few small clouds aloft were burdened with radiance;
but the sky,
with all its variety of light,
was scarcely so brilliant as the earth.

The rain of the preceding night had frozen as it fell,
and,
by that simple magic,
had wrought wonders.

The trees were hung with diamonds and many-colored gems;
the houses were overlaid with silver,
and the streets paved with slippery brightness;
a frigid glory was flung over all familiar things,
from the cottage chimney to the steeple of the meeting-house,
that gleamed upward to the sky.

This living world,
where we sit by our firesides,
or go forth to meet beings like ourselves,
seemed rather the creation of wizard power,
with so much of resemblance to known objects that a man
might shudder at the ghostly shape of his old beloved dwelling,
and the shadow of a ghostly tree before his door.

One looked to behold inhabitants suited to such a town,
glittering in icy garments,
with motionless features,
cold,
sparkling eyes,
and just sensation enough in their frozen hearts
to shiver at each other's presence.