Who shall describe the brave splendor of a November sky, that this morning burst through the lattice for me, on my bed? According to terrestrial calculations, above the horizon, there rose one rod of rainbows in the east, crowned with an acre of eldritch ebony. Little by little this topmost pall drooping over a deeply dazzling sunlight, softened, grew gray, then gay and glided into a glory of mottled marvels.
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