Classic Poem

What wisdom have we that by wisdom all
Sources of knowledge which the years suggest,
Hidden in rubric, stone or palimpsest,
Will turn and answer us because we call?
About us planets rise and systems fall
Where, lost to all but matter, Newtons rest;
And who are we to label worst and best
While all of force is gravitational?

Held by a four-dimensional concern,
He gropes among the atoms to beseech
A swifter sublimation that may reach
A little further than the funeral urn.
And we, who always said that we could teach,
Have nothing much to say and more to learn.