"And are built again"

I wonder if there is really a reason to grieve the passing of this
Platonic thing we have called Literature, with its periods, its crafts,
its canons of major and minor "figures," and, most precious, its faith
that it is possible, as the critic W. K. Wimsatt once put it, for a work
to "endure as a poetic monument." There are at present few things more
Ozymandian than the idea of a poetic