The technical complexity of moving a grand brick lighthouse 245 feet to the north is so immense that they needed funding from congress to get it off the ground. It set a precedent in architectural conservation.
Wind and storm whipped entropy ate the land that held it round
As if in 1993 they rolled the great body of it on the stripped trunks of great trees felled for the purpose
As the Egyptians rolled great slabs up slopes they devised
So too, here, in New England are the ancient ways revived for the preservation of our own stone Goliath
One that failed so many, even in its brightest prime
What sense is there in that, but some soft winter longing for a light which no longer shines?