The Survival

by Rudyard Kipling

　　

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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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