In defense of baroque

The music, gold and curlicued, falls bare And polished on the ear; antiquity Transformed by listening years; cacophony Subdued to weathered tones upon the air; The reedy sounds eroded, old, austere. So with the empty shells on ocean floor; Once-gaudy Grecian columns, bright no more; Remembered lovers; a child's forgotten fear; All live structures overwrought and queer That toiling time and men, time's memory, Strip bare of awkward ornament to see What purpose life enlarged - yet think to hear What Telemann wrote. There should be no surprise If our children's children choose to call us wise.