It is not method to take dusty saints
From wooden shelves, exclaiming joyful praise;
To say method is—oh look at the time,
That was then, this is now; those were the days!
You, fathers of a similar creature, twice:
The first, that disappointment all your own;
The second, subtle concept of another kind—
You, 'gainst my juvenility of tongue.
And I, as young as that same object,
To which you so object—learned, mature,
Cheer simply and complete another project,
With candour and my amateur allure.