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Decrepit beauty, crumbling stones
Grecian columns standing, soar
Stretching up from concrete bones
Above the water’s liquid roar
Surrounded, too, by trees so fair—
Twisted ancient oak and birch
Laurels’ leaves of Daphne’s hair
That only Man could e’er besmirch
At water’s end it stands, forlorn
And tattered, yet with comeliness
This water-temple’s been forsworn
And left to rot in emptiness
A monument so proud, it was
But left forgotten upon this earth
Remembered again, to my applause
And now instead will know rebirth
"Water Temple"
©1999 By Mary Barnett
All Rights Reserved |
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