The Edinburgh Geologist
Issue no 42

Two hundred years did the dark limestone hold
A script, but all the letters have been lost;
The dead lie nameless. Acids of the mould,
Sharp agencies of wind, crystals of frost,
The drifting rain, the sun, the winter cold,
Splintering tightest atomies apart,
Shew forth the hidden threads of corals old
On the smooth stone traced with minutest art.

Over the myriad centuries between
Nature remains thus faithful to her own,
Dissepiments like a thin veil are seen
About the theca of the hollow cone,
Calyx, tabulae, septa live again
Longer than bones and epitaphs of men.