Know yourself as a snowdrift on the sand Heaped for two days, or three, then thawed and gone.
Darlings of the forest! Blossoming alone When Earth's grief is sorest For her jewels gone Ere the last snow-drift melts your tender buds have blown.Rose T. Cooke, Trailing Arbutus; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 39.
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