Sonnet XVI

“The die is cast,” Caesar remarked aloud
Before his legion crossed the Rubicon.
The Roman soldiers could be all but proud
As amply they were made to carry on.

This is the world that conquerors did forge
Which bears its gilded visage at my breast
Whilst marred by constant bloodshed with the sword
It revolves within time’s long-standing test.

The world that nearly faded well away!
For now we make war with an iron pen
With laws our leaders do all that they may
With love our preachers rally gentlemen.

The taste of glory seems good in these years,
One can reflect when shedding happy tears.