Crossing Rubicons’s a passing phrase,
The wearing down of souls, of votaries; grinding
Fears, discretionary gifting, gilded bindings of blinding
Pages as in an age of hasty erratum to displays
That weigh all patience, maintenance and labour.
The pox of times as pleased with accents as for ellipsis
Marks that overlook what escapes the lips
In what is better left unsaid. Mountain valley neighbours
Will discover what shepherds in the lower highlands would
In time, but for the moment, testaments,
Reproofs of an ephemeral senate, pious objections, estimates
Of what’s to come must bend to what cannot or should
Not last in solid states, and as economies’ periodic futures rise and fall,
Antony calmly takes the woman while Augustus takes the call.