To what strange chance, thou sere and yellow book, Am I indebted for thy presence here? Who brought thee forth from thy obscurity And bade the ribald present pause and look Upon the confined wisdom of a year Long since engulfed in the Eternity? Thou'rt but a link in the forged chain of Time Which fetters cycles and an eon's years, Methink'st thy hoop hath welded been of gold, And binds thy past to present days of mine, Nor weights my soul with joyless, doleful fears, Thy wisdom taught cannot for aye grow old. |