W

 

The days of glory have decayed
the earth has spilled its splendour

There are no captains now, no kings
gold givers such as once there were
the lords who lived to purchase fame
and utmost laud among their peers

Virtue is fallen, visions are faded
The weak are left to hold this world
worn low. The flower of the field is old
the leaf is withered and the laurel sere
Throughout this middle isthmus man
meets age hoar-headed, bleak of face
by former friends forsaken, grieving over
scions of lineage long since gone

 

leonardo da vinci                                                                                     leonardo da vinci