Remembering Corinth

Corinth lies in her rocky grave
Battered and burned beneath the loam
Her wealth and fame could not be saved
Before the savage wrath of Rome.

Toward her great art, the world would stare
While fair maids danced upon her shore
No more will music fill the air
She's broken neath the fangs of war.

Red poppies catch the ocean breeze
By the windswept shore of the Aegean Sea
To mark her grave, the poplar trees
And grass to hide her mystery.

White marble columns hide her tears
Now covered with ivy and rose
Where her name calls us through the years
A quiet place of sad repose.