Disordered, all the terror of the act
He built out of his words before mine eyes:
The sharp-cut shadows and the frosty light
Showing each angle of my battlements
And buttresses; and the light snow, that clung,
Frozen, against the cloister’s slender shafts,
Hanging them with light-splintering icicles:
How clearly can I see it! and the gleam
Of scarlet and of steel against the snow;
And Galswith’s page, wild-eyed and tremulous,