Ruins in Rome are four a penny, <br />And here along the Appian Way <br />I see the monuments of many <br />Esteemed almighty in their day. . . . <br />Or so he makes me understand - <br />My glib guide of the rubber bus, <br />And tells me with a gesture grand: <br />"Behold! the tomb of Romulus." <br /> <br />Whereat I stared with eyes of awe, <br />And yet a whit dismayed was I, <br />When on its crumbling wall I saw <br />A washing hanging out to dry; <br />Yea, that relict of slow decay, <br />With peristyle and gnarly frieze, <br />Was garnished with a daft display <br />Of bifurcation and chemise. <br /> <br />But as we went our Southward way <br />Another ruin soon I saw; <br />No antique tower, gaunt and grey, <br />But modern manor rubbled raw; <br />And on its sill a maiden sat, <br />And told me in a tone of rue: <br />It was your allied bombs did that . . . <br />But do not think we're blaming you." <br /> <br />Thought I: Time is more kind than we <br />Who blot out beauty with a blow; <br />And truly it was sad to see <br />A gracious mansion levelled low . . . <br />While moulderings of ancient Rome <br />Still serve the peasants for their swine, <br />We do not leave a lovely home <br />A wall to hang a washing line.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ruins-2/
