I READ to-day a Poet dead In old Rome, centuries ago; Once more returned the days long fled, The dried-up waters seemed to flow. Once more the keen tongue known in youth Lashed the gross vices of the time, Portraying with a dreadful truth The sloughs of sense, the deeps of crime. Great city of the World! were these All that the race has gained of thee -- Foul lusts and soulless luxuries, Fraud, bloodshed, depths of villany? Was this what we have left of Rome, This blood - stained sink of dark offence? Nay, still across the ages come The high pure tones of innocence: "Let nothing ever, base to see or hear, Pass the chaste threshold where a young soul is; The innocence of boyhood, oh, revere, Lest what of vileness you conceive be his. "Despise not thou his pure and tender youth, But let his weakness stand 'twixt thee and wrong." Not wholly wert thou dumb, dread voice of Truth! Nor lost, oh sacred ministry of Song! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN WHIPPOORWILL (A GEORGIA ROMANCE) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE IMPORTANCE OF GREEN by JAMES GALVIN PERSPECTIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON POETRY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS |