An Exiles Remembrance

-An Exiles Remembrance-

A silent wind blows

One winters day

The icicles show the way

To my land of dreams

Where a Nightingale sings

in sway of happy things

The sun touches my face

In my secret, sacred place

Away from the voices and doubts

And memories of the seaside

I come here to hide

And to be away 

From the sound of the winters tide

Calling me from my island home

Back to a troubled Rome

The would be savior

Of a nation in ruinous decay

Doubtful to see another day

And this soldier is old and tired

And worn away

As the face of old Vesuvius

Which in tempestuous fury

Covered insolent Pompeii

My sword lies buried in the sand

Enough blood of my brothers

Shed by this now palsied hand

And so Rome shall fall

As should they all

In remembrance of those forgotten