The Eye Returns to the Scene of Its Portrayals

Every instant whiteness is gaining. The eye will return to the scene of its portrayals. On centennial leave from where tears freeze. While exulting at the white heap of stone. Ever heaping for want of better on itself. Black night hence forward an empty place. With no means of knowing whether she has gone in or under cover of darkness her ways again. She seems turned to stone. Face to the further confines the eye. Closes in vain to see. At last they appear an instant. North where she passes them always. We're to melt into paradise.