You turn your nose
Up in this place;
An ancient, derelict disgrace —
With sharp attack,
You will deride
What was another age’s pride –
You have no shame,
This I can see;
Because you don’t know history
And never had
Your idols dear
Become the jokes of yesteryear —
But this they will,
And so will you,
You worshipper of all things new —
Hot as you are,
You will grow cold;
For every modern thing
Gets old
To share is human:
Nicely expressed !
Thank you!
That’s the sort of thing this poem was about… I think …