500 Years From Now

I’ve often wondered what men might think 500 years from now
If they should find my humble abode while turning with the plow
The earth that builds around my home and covers it through time.
Will they sift through the sherds of pots and wipe away the grime
And take the time to see the riches that I have gathered round
To read the words that I have writ that seem to me profound
Or will they merely write an ode about a mouse seen afield
And speak of plans gang aft agley ignoring what was revealed

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