And the engine by which she works is age.
A plant from flower droops into decay;
Another from dust blossoms for its day.
Earth is in endless flux; she cannot bear
Qualities once loved; kinds are not which were.
Legend is thus encouraged to relate
Tales of wonders in Earth’s creative state.
We hear of bodies twofold, each a kind,
Bound in one frame, but with a single mind.
Inconceivable Centaurs!