FROM low to high doth dissolution climb, <br /> And sink from high to low, along a scale <br /> Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail; <br />A musical but melancholy chime, <br />Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, <br /> Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care. <br /> Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear <br />The longest date do melt like frosty rime, <br />That in the morning whiten'd hill and plain <br />And is no more; drop like the tower sublime <br /> Of yesterday, which royally did wear <br />His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain <br /> Some casual shout that broke the silent air, <br />Or the unimaginable touch of Time.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mutability-3/
