'So this is your warren of secrets,
Old thoughts, in a bright new world;
How long did you think you’d keep it,
Before it was overturned?
We come, fresh-faced from the future
To bundle you into the past,
Along with the spells and sutures
Of a time, outlived at last.’

I turned to the young intruder
And paled at his discontent,
The arrogant eye unsmiling,
The lip curled in contempt.
‘You think that the world’s before you,’
I said to his youthful sneer,
‘Well, I’ll not keep or curb you,
Or your children will be here!’

David Lewis Paget