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I love a ringing horn, even the stage-horn now, alas! no more a sound of real life, only memory! the thousand murmurs of a country evening; the far, clear cry of wild-geese from the clouds; the tinkling bells of cattle; every sound which brings again a glimpse of the far-glimmering plains of youth.
The solemn, yet unfettered, grace of its rhythmic respiration suggested to Alwyn, first darkness, then twilight then the gradual far-glimmering of a silvery dawn, till out of the shuddering notes there seemed to grow up a vague, vast, and cool whiteness, splendid and mystical, a whiteness that from shapeless, fleecy mist took gradual form and substance, ... the great concert-hall, with its closely packed throng of people, appeared to fade away like vanishing smoke, and lo! before the poet's entranced gaze there rose up a wondrous vision of stately architectural grandeur, a vision of snowy columns and lofty arches, upon which fell a shimmering play of radiant color flung by the beams of the sun through stained glass windows glistening jewel-wise, a tremulous sound of voices floated aloft, singing, "Kyrie Eleison!
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