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Arthur Henry Adams - Nemesis
Work rating: Medium

All things must fade. There is for cities tall 
The same tomorrow as for daffodils: 
Time`s wind, that casts the seed, the petal spills. 
Grim London`s ruined arches yet shall fall 
Back to the arms of Earth. A quiet pall 
The mother draws over those she loves—and kills; 
And though brief nations vaunt their upstart wills, 
The nemesis of grass shall cover all. 
So—from a caravan to Mecca bound 
Getting no more than one incurious glance— 
Tremendous Babylon, thrice-girt with walls, 
Sick of her thousand years of arrogance, 
With a few tamarisks upon a mound 
Her epigraph upon the desert scrawls.
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