A Visit To Rome

When I go down to Rome It's stimulating, of course, A change from gathering olives Or walking behind the hairy arse of the mule When the spear goes into the breast of a gladiatrix I miss it, fiddling about with a sandal strap. `Gaius, you're such a stick in the mud' My cousin Flavius says. It's true. Digging me out of my certainties Is just like dislodging grit from a stone wall. The lions' roar's exciting, I must allow But I prefer an evening walk through olives Leaves' whisper, and a sky studded with stars. The powerful Senate's too much like the sun Drawing ambitious moths into its flame My land is too far off for scrutiny My ploughshare cuts across no Caesar's veins