Modernities

 Small knowledge have we that by knowledge met 
May not some day be quaint as any told 
In almagest or chronicle of old, 
Whereat we smile because we are as yet 
The last—though not the last who may forget 
What cleavings and abrasions manifold 
Have marked an armor that was never scrolled 
Before for human glory and regret.
 

With infinite unseen enemies in the way 
We have encountered the intangible, 
To vanquish where our fathers, who fought well, 
Scarce had assumed endurance for a day; 
Yet we shall have our darkness, even as they, 
And there shall be another tale to tell.

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