THIS the true sign of ruin to a race— <br /> It undertakes no march, and day by day <br />Drowses in camp, or, with the laggard’s pace, <br /> Walks sentry o’er possessions that decay; <br /> Destined, with sensible waste, to fleet away;— <br />For the first secret of continued power <br /> Is the continued conquest;—all our sway <br />Hath surety in the uses of the hour; <br />If that we waste, in vain walled town and lofty tower!<br /><br />William Gilmore Simms<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-decay-of-a-people/
