The ivy's white cedillas scale Harvard's br bricks as summer students slouch on green- br swards trim as billiard cloths, riffling pages br veined with enigmas, tyros roused to master br canons, facts, and questions locked in marbled br tomes beyond the pointblank, blameless summer. br br Storied halls, stunned honey-red in summer br sun, cast shadows by DeChirico. Harvard br ruminates beside the Charles, its marble br pillars stand as sentinels for lime-green br ephebes; figures of memorable masters— br Santayana, James, Norton—gloss pages br br proving Magna est veritas. Pages br encoded in blood instruct the summer br students how casual chance and time can master br bookish sway. The statue of John Harvard br anchors the Yard in day, keeps the blue-green br night when couples saunter out in marbling br br light. Incised in Emerson Hall's high marble br (the words begin the psalmist's famous page) br —What Is Man—halted by the ivy's green br dilation, goes unheeded by the summer br scholars laying frenzied siege to Harvard's br stock, and looting legacies of master- br br pieces. Greatness of truth tries to master br riotous thought, channel it to marbled br tomes that crowd the archived way down Harvard's br termless coastal-shelf to bedrock pages br fathoms beyond sentio ergo sum-mer. br Vines, shaggy as goats, brace the ivy's green. br br The ivy's sheen erodes to dingy green, br like volumes furred with mold; patina masters br metal casts, and lost in older summers br cattle skulls bleach in woods. Ivy crimps the page, br the psalmist's cry, malleted in marble, br What Is Man, the radial verse at Harvard.