Fair Things Are Slow To Fade Away, Bear Witness You, That Yesterday1 From Out The Ghost Of Pindar Inyou Roll'D An Olympian; And They Say2 That Here The Torpid Mummy Wheat Of Egypt Bore A Grain As Sweet As That Which Gilds The Glebe Of England, Sunn'D With A Summer Of Milder Heat. So May This Legend For Awhile, If Greeted By Your Classic Smile, Tho' Dead In Its Trinacrian Enna, Blossom Again On A Colder Isle.