Classic Poem

O Hyle thy waves are like Babylon's streams
When the daughters of Zion hung o'er them in woe
When the sad exiles wept in their desolate dreams
And sighed for the sound of their calm Kedron's flow

The palms are all withered that shadowed thy shore
The breezes that kiss thee through sepulchres sweep
For the plume of the Ethiop, the lance of the moor
All under the sods of the battle-field sleep

O Hylle! that mo[o]nlight shines colder on thee
Than afar of it shines on the salt lake of graves
And drear as the voice of its wild waters be
'Tis joy to the sound of thy desolate waves

O Hylle! thy children are scattered afar
All gone is their glory all faded is their fame
Crushed Broken their banner-staff, vanished is their star
Unburied their ashes, Forgotten their name.