Classic Poem

To L. A. T.

What curled and scented sun-girls, almond-eyed,
 With lotos-blossoms in their hands and hair,
 Have made their swarthy lovers call them fair,
With these spent strings, when brutes were deified,
And Memnon in the sunrise sprang and cried,
 And love-winds smote Bubastis, and the bare
 Black breasts of carven Pasht received the prayer
Of suppliants bearing gifts from far and wide!
This lute has out-sung Egypt; all the lives
 Of violent passion, and the vast calm art
  That lasts in granite only, all lie dead;
This little bird of song alone survives,
 As fresh as when its fluting smote the heart
  Last time the brown slave wore it garlanded.