[I] met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and feathered wings of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose buoyant,
Cheerful glare through words of gratitude and care
Tell that its maker well those passions read
— The mind that welcomed and the heart that fed —
Which yet survive, stamped to those feathered wings.

And on your screen these words appear:
"My name is Angel-of-Dev — au courant,
Look on my works, ye Mighty, for I'm [The Recurrent]"

Nothing beside remains.
Boundless and bare sands stretch far away.

...