Fenton Johnson, "Rome Is Dying" (1913)
I
Rome is dying, —
Rome the Mighty! —
The sea of gold engulfs her form,
And men are buying fellow-men.
The tide of prejudice rolls on
Beyond the Tiber, dark and cold;
The prophet sees the fading light,
And shudders at the growing night.
The land is red with crying blood;
The people murmur and are hushed.
Rome is dying, —
Rome the Mighty!
II
Rome is dying, —
Rome the Mighty!
And what the sinner sows, he reaps.
Ye made our women slaves and dogs;
The serpent lash was yours to wield,
O boastful Mother of the West!
Ye nurtured strangers in the land, —
A mongrel breed of humankind;
Ye made them grind the ripened corn
To feed patricians born to scorn.
Rome is dying, —
Rome the Mighty!
III
Rome is dying, —
Rome the Mighty! —
Who used the common tyrant clay
To mold a consul with the mermaid smile.
Rome passes down to Pluto's realm
With boasts that shock old Cicero;
She lauds the painted woman form
That sits and spins the roulette wheel;
She shouts to see her Crassus rise
On the toil-stained frames of men.
Rome is dying, —
Rome the Mighty!
Published in A Little Dreaming, 1913