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.
A lonely fir-tree is standing On a northern barren height; It sleeps, and the ice and snow-drift Cast round it a garment of white.Heinrich Heine
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