Cincinnatus
The sun casts red upon the myriad dead,
The heavens die, departing shadowed shades;
The bloody duty’s done, but what ahead?
For prosp'rous peace rests not on sharpened blades.
And "Cincinnatus!", some now cry, "Be king!
To lead in peace, as you have led in war!"
But this a thing no friend of Rome should bring,
For army rule is not what Rome is for.
O, well enough, I know how well to lead,
But in my shadow, how could roses grow?
My absence is the thing that Romans need,
For in the sun, shall Rome itself best know.
Let others sharpen wits, for good or harm,
I'll sharpen plows, upon my humble farm.
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