Figure C1 NEBEL

Westward from that shore, we see a wall

Frozen but indistinct, as if a cloud

Were still and square: through a ghostly hall

We enter, footsteps muffled by the shroud

Of the strange pavement, for nothing loud

Can enter this blue chamber, builded well,

Each brick is an infinitesimal crowd

Of tiny atomies, an ÆRO-GEL,

A smoke made solid, that no wind can e’er dispel.