Clio's Sieve Poem by Mark Sauer

How fine the mesh of Clio's sieve!
How deft; sifting teeming epoch
To one parchment, in it to live
Distilled, a lost world in one book.
An epic lives in one last line
Of plucked hexameter, to stand
For seven thousand not so fine.
The remnant Library fills one hand,
One scroll immortal of millions
Dust and ash. Or is it Eris,
Random goddess, her selections
That we pore over and caress?
Our faith is, we've the gold, not dross;
We could not else bear feel the loss.