Centuries from now shocked eyes may stare amazed

On cryptic words they cannot comprehend,

As Napoleon’s grenadiers once stood bemused

By Coptic etchings scarred by Nubian winds;

Perhaps of curiosity alone

They would decipher letters, now unbound

And raise from dark obscurity to known—

Strange writings that might probing minds astound.

So from the past, dear lyrics locked in time,

Proud yearnings deep that they might understand,

My earnest verses cast in passioned rhyme—

Sweet billet-doux soft stirred from slumbering sand…

Should love still thrive, they might there muse and say,

—His heart stayed true, but somehow lost its way.