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The Epic Of The Fall

I Leave The 20th Century With No Regrets

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The teachers told us, the Romans built this place
They built a wall and a temple,
an edge of the empire garrison town,
They lived and they died, they prayed to their gods
But the stone gods did not make a sound
And their empire crumbled, 'til all that was left
Were the stones the workmen found.
And all this time the river flowed,
In the falling light of a northern sun.

On and on the Great River rolls, racing east.
Of proud and gallant heroes its white-tops leave no trace.
As right and wrong, pride and fall turn all at once unreal.
Yet ever the green hills stay
To blaze in the west-waning day.
Fishers and woodmen comb the river isles.
White-crowned, they’ve seen enough of spring autumn tide
To make good company over the wine jar,
Where many a famed event
Provides their merriment.
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