Senex Ruminatur Historicus

(Framed by the ivied arch, they pause and pass
Beyond my ken across the campus grass.
O tempora! How unabashed, how free,
Young love has come to he.)
If order now to chaos must return,
And value sink into vulgarity,
And culture like a lamp turned low should burn
With futile clarity, —
(Or say, perhaps, the heat of blood has dwindled,
And stairways have become more steep since youth,
And delicacy that quick desire once kindled
Seems somehow grown uncouth, —)
Doubt not, in its own way, the earth will yet
Repeat the roistering blade and the coquette.
Depart with confidence that some new lore
Waits at Time’s open door.