Roman portrait fresco, Pompeii, 1st century AD‘Tullia’ By Jack Hart The Society April 28, 2017 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 9 Comments Yes, I admit I seldom write, Or even think of you, But not, as you suppose, Because there’s someone new, But rather that I do not choose To let you slip away, Or let the passage of a year Seem more than half a day. Because I will not think of you, You cannot leave my mind, And nothing is a memory Until it’s left behind. There is a tale that Tullia, Cicero’s daughter, lay Entombed for fifteen-hundred years Beside the Appian Way, While armies swept across the land, And seasons made their round, Until by some odd circumstance An opening was found. And when the workmen moved the stone, They saw inside the tomb, A lamp still burning with a light The years could not consume. And by that light they glimpsed a form Too beautiful for lust. And then before a man could speak, It crumbled into dust. Jack Hart is a professor at the University of Rio Grande, in Ohio. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 9 Responses Amy Foreman April 29, 2017 Beautiful! Reply Florence April 29, 2017 A very lovely poem. Your Tullia becomes a metaphor for memory when she turns to dust and evokes that closing Aha! Well done with simplicity and intention. Thank you. Reply Dona Fox April 29, 2017 Enchanting! Reply Sally Cook April 29, 2017 Buried beneath the back and forth of daily life, Tullia lay. The symbolism of the story is a theme made for a poem. Even though current fashion is to be crass and shallow, we all keep such lamps within our hearts, and their light refuses to lie snuffed and trampled by current rules anti-mores.. Reply CAROL HERRING April 29, 2017 A delightful poem! Carol Ann Herring Reply David Watt April 29, 2017 A beautiful poem in which every word and syllable counts. Reply Jack Hart May 1, 2017 Thank all of you for the kind comments. The subject of the poem is real, as is the story (at least more or less). I do have to be a little skeptical about the literal accuracy of the lamp still burning. But of course I wasn’t there, so who knows . . . Jack Hart Reply David Hollywood May 2, 2017 Terrific poem. Reply Wendy Bourke May 3, 2017 Lovely words, beautifully rendered – the rhyme and cadence … wonderfully done. Awesome writing! A pleasure to read! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.