REQUIEM FOR USENET.
The epic stories of the bygone years,
Now buried 'neath our grateful, sorrowed tears,
The base no government did dare to touch,
Destroyed by spammers who did post too much.
Though spring is over for the dandelion,
Its fruit remains to be the flower's scion;
It now ascends to serve a greater mass,
It reincarnates in a higher class.
The class whose members number but a few,
The phone, steam engine, known by me and you.
I do not weep; its goal is now complete;
Preserving it's the task we're called to meet.