On Ancient Grecian Scraps Poem by Richard St. Clair

When opening a tome of antique verse,
I gaze in wonder at the inspired strains
Originating in such odd domains
That ranged from good to better, or to worse.
Lyric ballades in fragments preserved,
Delighting audiences of antiquarians,
Whether neophytes or nonogenarians,
Even if it left them just a bit unnerved.
I love these dusty antiquated rhymes,
Preserved on parchment, papyrus, or vellum
By wizened scholars, postwar or antebellum,
Passed down by acolytes from harsher times.
What miracles, these poems from the past,
That came to us, more or less intact, at last.