A country company long dispersed asunder:
When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul’s high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
For now doors open and war is waged with the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread long brown paths as towards their toil they go:
But even for them no cares awhile encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber