PRÆTERITA EX INSTANTIBUS.
Reading edition
How strange it is that, in the after age,— When Time's clepsydra will be nearer dry— That all the accustomed things we now pass by Unmarked, because familiar, shall engage The antique reverence of men to be; And that quaint interest which prompts the sage The silent fathoms of the past to gauge Shall keep alive our own past memory, Making all great of ours—the garb we wear— Our voiceless cities, reft of roof and spire— The very skull whence now the eye of fire Glances bright sign of what the soul can dare. So shall our annals make an envied lore, And men will say, 'Thus did the men of yore.'