Chapters 23
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1 01 - The Cross of Snow - Read by ALP 1:14
The Cross of Snow In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face, the face of one long dead, Looks at me from the wall, Where, round its head, The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here, in this room, she died, And soul more white never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can, in books, be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, Through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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2 02 - The Cross of Snow - Read by BK 1:20
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and so more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose, nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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3 03 - The Cross of Snow - Read by BM 1:32
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where, round its head, the night-lamp casts. A halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more. Benedict.
There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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4 04 - The Cross of Snow - Read by CF 1:14
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died. And soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose, nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that sun-defying in its deep ravines displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years Through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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5 05 - The Cross of Snow - Read by DL 1:13
In the long sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And so, more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, Through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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6 06 - The Cross of Snow - Read by DN 1:11
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where round its head. The night lamp cast a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white. Never through martyrdom a fire was led. To its repose, nor can its books be read. The legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that sun defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side, such as the cross I wear upon my breast. These eighteen years through all the changing scenes, And seasons changeless since the day she died.
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7 07 - The Cross of Snow - Read by EL0 1:30
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died, and so more white never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite.
There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, In its deep ravines displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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8 08 - The Cross of Snow - Read by IK0 1:12
In the long sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire, Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless. Since the day she died.
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9 09 - The Cross of Snow - Read by IKL 0:57
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, her gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led. To its repose, nor can in books be read. A legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side, such is the cross I wear upon my breast, these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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10 10 - The Cross of Snow - Read by JBW 1:07
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And soul more white never through martyrdom afar was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, Changeless since the day she died.
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11 11 - The Cross of Snow - Read by JFJ 1:18
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round his head the night-lamp casts the halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose, nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side, such as the cross I wear upon my breast. Eighteen years through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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12 12 - The Cross of Snow - Read by JG 1:02
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where round its head. The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white. Never through martyrdom a fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read. The legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that sun-defying, in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side, such as a cross I wear upon my breast, these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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13 13 - The Cross of Snow - Read by JP 1:06
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face, the face of one long dead, Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, An soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose, nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast, tis eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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14 14 - The Cross of Snow - Read by KS 1:12
Or by Kevin S.
In the long sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, And soul more white never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedict. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, Through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
End of the day.
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15 15 - The Cross of Snow - Read by LAH 1:13
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white, Never through martyrdom a fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons. Changeless since the day she died.
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16 16 - The Cross of Snow - Read by LCW 1:13
In the long sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that sun-defying in its deep ravines displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast. These eighteen years through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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17 17 - The Cross of Snow - Read by LS 1:13
In the long sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And soul more white. Never through martyrdom a fire was led. To its repose nor can in books be read. The legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years. Through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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18 18 - The Cross of Snow - Read by PLM 1:14
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years. Through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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19 19 - The Cross of Snow - Read by PR 1:22
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here, in this room, she died, and sole more white never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying, in its deep ravines displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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20 20 - The Cross of Snow - Read by QTN 1:00
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall, where round its head the night lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose. Nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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21 21 - The Cross of Snow - Read by RR 1:19
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where, round its head, the night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died. And soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose, nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast. These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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22 22 - The Cross of Snow - Read by SDS 1:03
January 5th, 2023. In the long, sleepless watches of the night, a gentle face, the face of one long dead, looks at me from the wall where round its head the night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here, in this room, she died. And soul more white, never through martyrdom of fire was led to its repose, nor can in books be read the legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.
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23 23 - The Cross of Snow - Read by TL 0:59
In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face, the face of one long dead, Looks at me from the wall where round its head. The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died, and soul more white, Never through martyrdom a fire was led, To its repose, not can in books be read. The legend of a life more benedite. There is a mountain in the distant west, that, sun-defying in its deep ravines, displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast, these eighteen years, through all the changing scenes and seasons, changeless since the day she died.