On a Grave at Grindelwald

by Frederic William Henry Myers

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.