WHERE Pyramids and temple-wrecks are piled Confusedly on camel-coloured sands, And the mute Arab motionlessly stands, Like some swart god who never wept or smiled, -- I picked up mummy relics of the wild (And sea-shells once with clutching baby hands), And felt a wafture from old Motherlands, And all the morning wonder of a Child To find Sphinx-money. So the Beduin calls Small fossils of the waste. Nay, poet's gold; 'Twill give thee entrance to those rites of old, When hundred-gated Thebes, with storied walls, Gleamed o'er her Plain, and vast processions rolled To Amon-Ra through Karnak's pillared halls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXISTING POOL by HAYDEN CARRUTH GOD AND MY COUNTRY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ANOTHER DARK LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE CHAM TOWERS AT DA NANG by KAREN SWENSON AN ODE ON THE UNVEILING OF THE SHAW MEMORIA BOSTON COMMON, MAY 31, 1897 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH FAREWELL TO LOVE by JOHN DONNE |