The Centurion, Page 4 Of 4 Poem by John Bliven Morin
The Centurion, Page 4 Of 4
No gilded helm upon his head,
no shield nor sword nor spear;
his bloody face showed nothing,
not even guilt or fear.
Down to the path, alone he crept,
and southward toward the shores;
back toward Camulodunum
stole Lucius Mactus Mors.
Friday, June 10, 2011
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8/29/2026 9:10:23 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
