Our Age Has Caesars

Our age has Caesars, though they wear silk hats
And govern vaster continents than Rome;
The bishops tends their bellies and wear spats
And lie like ancient oracles; at home
Circe, bored with triumphs on the stage,
Sets the table and pours out the wine,
Varies her smiling makeup to engage,
Bewitch and rob her smug enamored swine.
If we have prophets calling for revolts
Who shake the skies until the old worlds crack,
For ever hero there are twenty dolts
And Tartuffe's skulk behind Ilyich's back;
And Madame Pompadour and you, my dear,
Differ only in name and class and year.

"Our Age Has Caesars" - Joseph Freeman, Pg. 375