When I was young, I loved in thought to plod
The lands of long ago, when creatures trod
The earth, with spines or fangs, or talon-shod,
Like none that lives today. I wished some god
Would whisk me back to stride the selfsame sod
As mammoth, saber-tooth, or sauropod,
and others just as odd.
But now I know that on this present sphere,
However sane, conventional, and drear
My swarming fellow anthropoids appear,
Beneath the fragile civilized veneer
Of men lurk spirits every kit as queer
As brontosaurus or titanothere
And worthier of fear.
L. Sprague de Camp, 1968