It dies into the sand from which it sprang;
But thine, Love’s rock-built Tower, shall fear no change;
God’s self laid stable earth’s foundation so,
When all the morning stars together sang.
—Robert Browning.
The traces of human deeds fade swiftly away from the sun-lighted earth, as the transient shade of thought from the brow, but nothing is lost and dissipated, which the rolling hours, replete with secrets, have received into their dark creative bosom. Time is a blooming field; nature is ever teeming with life, and all is seed, and all is fruit.—Schiller.