1902
They said that it had feet of clay,
That its fall was sure and quick.
In the flames of yesterday
All the clay was burned to brick.
When they carved our epitaph
And marked us doomed beyond recall,
"We are," we answered, with a laugh,
"The Empire that declines to fall."
The Empire
Arthur Conan Doyle
(1)
Poem topics: laugh, yesterday, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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