He stands erect, a man of bronze
at ease above the city square.
No longer bound by vulgar law
he stands. Unmoved by common fear.
A father to the crawling mass-
plebians trudge the wearied street.
Impossible to meet his eyes,
for man's head bides beneath his feet.
Alone he stands, closest to heav'n-
above the hands which gave him birth.
Now born of bronze, and less of flesh,
for rots his corpse beneath the earth.
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