Classic Poem

The nations all their day shall have;
Yet each in turn shall rise and fall,
As falls the dark brown autumn leaf;
Or as those dread sky-kissing tides,
Which toss frail barks high upon
Some ghastly, frowning storm-beat shore, —
Though slowly, yet quite surely ebb away.

— Aye! Egypt fair once spread the Nile,
And green-bay-tree-like proudly flourished;
Her snowy sails sea-ports bedecked,
And deeply ploughed the rolling main,
Or clave the placid lakes, as does
The gentle swan, when some soft breeze
The bulrush stirs, flings its perfume
Upon the rippling silver waves!
Fair cities dotted here and there
Her vast domain. Her royal line
Of Pharaohs held the sceptre gold
Upon her all-emblazoned throne.
Now Egypt fair is wreck and ruin.
For, as fled on the flight of years,
The unrelenting. Hand of time
Wiped her sweet visage off the globe!
Naught save the grim, grey pyramid,
Sublimest work of man, yet stands
To greet the rosy morn, with proud
Uplifted head, expanded chest —
A death defiant scoff at time!
Yet hoary Time in his wild rage
Of wreck and ruin, like Jove shall hurl
His fiery bolts upon the head
Of pyramid with ire, and crush
And raze it to its base with scorn!