Reune?

Whenever I go back to Harvard I
Am suddenly again merely 18
Surrounded by a distant, high, serene
Institution that can never die
Which I, so conscious of what passes by
Quail before. Then it becomes routine
I see the Yard once more a painted green,
Am twenty-two and telling it goodbye
All in an instant. Harvard is and was
The things I did there and who I became,
What changed, and changes, and what never does
All intertwined and somehow all the same,
So when I come, I somehow know I never
Left at all, and doubt that I could ever.