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The Survival
By Rudyard Kipling
Securely, after days
Unnumbered, I behold
Kings mourn that promised praise
Their cheating bards foretold.
Of earth constricting Wars,
Of Princes passed in chains,
Of deeds out-shining stars,
No word or voice remains.
Yet furthest times receive,
And to fresh praise restore,
Mere breath of flutes at eve,
Mere seaweed on the shore.
A smoke of sacrifice;
A chosen myrtle-wreath;
An harlot's altered eyes;
A rage 'gainst love or death;
Glazed snow beneath the moon,
The surge of storm-bowed trees,
The Caesars perished soon,
And Rome Herself: But these
Endure while Empires fall
And Gods for Gods make room....
Which greater God than all
Imposed the amazing doom?
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