|
It is as though some Roman Emperor’s
vast spectacle had ceased, disappeared:
all the glitter, and breastplates with pseudo-
immortality buttressed against
home skies: those trundling wheels and pin-bright
spikes of armoury, those glory times stretched
to the utmost on time's rack -- gone! The stale rain
on dead leaves out-scaling all that energy:
no monument-- for what care the innocent sparrows?
Rome and October have ceased to be: their suns
rise and set only in sighs and shades of the memory.
November sits in her gloom, crossing daylight
far swifter than chariots. |
