The Fall of Rome, by W. H. Auden

The piers are pummeled by the waves;
In a lonely field the rain
Lashes an abandoned train:
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.

Fantastic grow the evening gowns:
Agents of the Fisc pursue
Absconding tax-defaulters through
The sewers of provincial towns.

Private rites of magic send
The Temple prostitutes to sleep;
All the literati keep
An imaginary friend

Cerebrotonic Cato may
Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
But the muscle-bound Marines
Mutiny for food and pay.

Caesar's double bed is warm
As an unimportant clerk
Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK
On a pink official form.

Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.

Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.