With his scythe and with his wings, our eyes are familiar, as, to the
present day, he is never drawn without these accompaniments. {12}
"To one that marks the quick and certain round
Of year on year, and finds that every day
Brings its grey hair, or bears a leaf away
From the full glory with which life is crowned,
Ere youth becomes a shade, and fame a sound:
Surely to one that feels his foot on sand
Unsure, the bright and ever visible hand
Of Time, points far above the lowly bound
Of pride that perishes: and leads the eye
To loftier objects and diviner ends;
A tranquil strength, sublime humility,
A knowledge of ourselves, a faith in friends,
A sympathy for all things born to die,
With cheerful love for those whom truth attends."