The Generations of the Leavesrnby John SeniorrnTime, at thirty, turned us rightside out.rnOh, kept a memory that still could squeezernsome Housman from the school anthologies,rnaccommodating ills, as hopes delayed,rnto settle for the ways that things are made,rnagainst the rowdy Beatific routrnof those who took the journey down and out,rnrutting with the pigs in Circe’s cavernrnand One-Eyed Riley at the West End Tavern.rnWe found responsibility restrainsrnand overpumping of the heart blows brains,rndiscovering in many a fiscal joustrnthe chivalry of payments on the house:rnMonev more than malt or Milton canrnjustif)’ God’s ways to businessmen.rnHis name is now a Scholarship. I guessrnhe left a little something for the College.rnHow we sneered at profit and successrnback then when just to be alive was knowledge,rnsome of which we did attain, but less,rnalas, than constellated fame affords—rnhim least; yet once with what sweet noblenessrnhe soared (perhaps it turned the Eates contrary)rnstanding on the steps of Low Libraryrnreading in the Greek those winged words,rngolden helmetcd with golden greaves,rnsplendid in his hopes, in battle green—rnwhite clouds of April race across the plain:rn”Why ask my lineage? The lives of menrnare like the generations of the lcaes.”rnAnd we saw angels whipping worlds like topsrnto make that painful crying of the spheresrnand Glaueus, started on the great stone steps,rnspinning, locked in ecstasy with stars.rnMARCH 1993/13rnrnrn