When I was a King and a Mason – a Master proven and skilled,
I cleared me ground for a Palace such as a King should build.
I decreed and dug down to my levels. Presently, under the silt,
I came on the wreck of a Palace such as a King had built.
There was no worth in the fashion – there was no wit in the plan,
Hither and thither, aimless, the ruined footings ran –
Masonry, brute, mishandled, but carven on every stone:
“After me cometh a Builder. Tell him, I too have known.”
From Rudyard Kipling’s The Palace (1925)