Classic Poem

Once was I young, and stood here all elate
In the vain glory of fresh travertine,
Where passed the broad North Road. But now I wait,
Crouched like a beggar at a palace gate,
Broken and scorned, — to rail with beggar's whine
At one who takes the place I counted mine.

Be not so fain, O gay and glittering pile!
To bare your marble bosom to the sky.
Rome is your lover now; but bide a while,
Till twenty centuries pass; and men will smile
To see your ruined charms, and pass you by;
When you shall be a moral, even as I.