Sic Transit

A tower a hundred feet erect

Looks round upon the scene which girds;

‘Tis here at eve the clouds collect,

At dawn a trysting-place for birds.

Here hills and streams the observer hold,

Or boundless prairie mocks the eyes:

Some famous warriors of old

Made this their bloody battle-prize.

The centuries of time roll on,

And I, a traveller, passing there,

Mark firs and cypresses all gone,

And grave-mounds, high and low, laid


The ruined tombs uncared-for stand –

Where do their wandering spirits hide?

Oh, glory makes us great and grand,

And yet it has its seamy side.

Tao Chien A.D. 365-427

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