A Roman Tragedy – A Sonnet

A familiar reflection in pools,

Hidden amid mind’s cavernous crevice,

Visions – the smiling young man of today,

How, now, shall time, your misery’s mason,

Sullying, with hammer, chip you away?

I do not long for that dread, dreary day,

When all sensation shall then slip away;

What, then, all ruined in age, shall you say?

It is barbaric, it is so damned crass,

That this, the regal summit of your Rome,

Shall be a mere twenty years, come to pass,

Whilst there the Vandals and the Goths amass;

 

We are all doomed to see them swarn the gate,

The Tiber’s banks run red as youth abates.

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