āTo Time it never seems that he is braveTo set himself against the peaks of snowTo lay them level with the running wave,Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low,But only grave, contemplative and grave.ā
āTo Time it never seems that he is braveTo set himself against the peaks of snowTo lay them level with the running wave,Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low,But only grave, contemplative and grave.ā