Your bones laid buried;
Years measured in the millions
Left you hidden, protected you
From vain and repetitious history,
Your secrets guarded silently
Lest digging hands describe you,
And mount you on an iron frame,
And steal you from your ancient kind.
For this your mute deliverance,
Oh creature of an early kind!
Can we be old who only
Hold your bones or do we age
By aging without time?
Oh creature, rout us from our minds,
Who routed you from time.