from “Wise Men in Their Bad Hours”

Death's a fierce meadowlark: but to die having made
Something more equal to the centuries
Than muscle and bone, is mostly to shed weakness. 
The mountains are dead stone, the people 
Admire or hate their stature, their insolent quietness,
The mountains are not softened or troubled
And a few dead men's thoughts have the same temper. 

— Robinson Jeffers