Has aught been changed, or is there any more
To tell of what the human heart can feel?
Or is there any phase of woe or weal
That has not been a thousand times before?
We live the life our fathers lived of yore-
Our loves, our hates, our longings are the same;
Our creeds have little changed except in name,
And our wise books repeat the ancient lore.
The men who walked in Babylon's proud streets
Were just such men as walk our streets today;
And the fair maid who blushes as she meets
Her lover, such as she, far, far away,
Long, long ago (oft has the tale been told),
Was many a sweet fair maid who lived of old.