The Fall of Rome
The piers are pummelled by the waves;In a lonely field the rainLashes an abandoned train;Outlaws fill the mountain caves. Fantastic grow the evening gowns;Agents of the Fisc pursueAbsconding tax-defaulters throughThe sewers of provincial towns. Private rites of magic sendThe temple prostitutes to sleep;All the literati keepAn imaginary friend. Cerebrotonic Cato mayExtol the Ancient Disciplines,But the muscle-bound MarinesMutiny for food and pay. Caesar's double-bed is warmAs an unimportant clerkWrites I DO NOT LIKE MY WORKOn a pink official form. Unendowed with wealth or pity,Little birds with scarlet legs,Sitting on their speckled eggs,Eye each flu-infected city. Altogether elsewhere, vastHerds of reindeer move acrossMiles and miles of golden moss,Silently and very fast.
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