Snowzimandius.

I met a traveller from a muddy place,

Who said—"One small and footless step of thin ice 

Rests in the yard. . . . Near it lies the face,

Of mud reversed from snow a visage lies, whose grimace,

And icy lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which lasted, stamped once on a snowman's noggin,

The hand that crafted, on the snowman's head;

Within the mire, these words appear:

My name is Snowzymandias, King of Toboggan!;

Look on my Works, ye Frozen, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that minuscule print, alone and bare

The lone and yellow grass stretch far away."