The Spectre Bride

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​​​​​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​⁠The winter nights up at Sault Ste. Marie are as white and luminous as the Milky Way. The silence that rests upon the solitude appears to be white also. Nature has included sound in her arrestment. Save the still white frost, all things are obliterated. The stars are there, but they seem to belong to heaven and not to earth. They are at an immeasurable height, and so black is the night that the opa