Classic Poem

As the sown field in verdure doth abound,
From verdure leaping many an emerald pipe.
From pipe the flowering ear with bristles crowned,
The yellowing ear to grain the warmth makes ripe.

And as, the season come, the rustic reaps
The rolling waves of blondest hair, and leaves
The yellow corn in many careful heaps
On the spoiled field, and binds them into sheaves.

Little by little thus the Empire grew,
Till it was ravished by the Goth's rough hand,
Leaving but fragmentary bone and thew;
Which all go plundering, as the gleaners stand,

Following step by step to snatch the prey
The reaper may neglect behind his way.