This is my ancient city, Rome,
beyond the stench of sour days, cowering below
the aged yellow dalliance of skeletons,
where thoughtful minds are loathe to pause,
hangs a solitary man upon a cross-
Sitting on the Palatine,
gazing down upon her ancient, mossy bones
something of a stirring, saturnine,
a spark of vestal flame unsettles me,
and the fading ghosts of history
encircle me now, while I am alone.
The Rubicon through an old city runs,
the Solitary mind beholds the infinite show,
and he Himself stoops to hear the Rivers flow.
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