I am poor and old and blind;
The sun burns me, and the wind
Blows through the city gate
And covers me with dust
...
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To quote a certain weird wealthy businessman- this poem is HUGE. He is talking Ancient History to his generation of retired soldiers and he very well could be talking to all the soldiers since. We honor our warriors till they are too old to march onto the battlefield- then we don't see them begging for bread on the streets
Realm and reign! Old with the muse of life. Thanks for sharing.
A beautifully conceived soliloquy of an old warrior who fought battles for his monarch when he could and living in pathetic conditions in old age more or less like a beggar.