Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Arthur Wentworth HamiltonEaton1178 The Egyptian Lotus
P
’T is strange to see thee on our Western wave,
Far from those sandy shores, that mile on mile,
Papyrus-plumed, stretch silent as the grave.
And round deep dreaming isles thy leaves expand,
Where Alexandrian barges plough their way,
Full-freighted, to the ancient Theban land.
And spacious Luxor’s temple-palace walls,
Each royal Pharaoh’s emeralded queen
Chose thee to deck her glittering banquet halls;
As regally, amidst these common things,
As on the shores where Nile’s soft ripples break,
As in the halls of old Egyptian kings.
But he whose outer senses thought has probed,
Looking at thee, sees stately temples rise
About him, and long lines of priests, white-robed,
Dim columned aisles; hears, trembling overhead,
Echoes that lose themselves in that vast space,
Of Egypt’s solemn ritual for the dead.
Wake in the quickened soul at sight of thee,
For this majestic orient faith enshrined
Man’s yearning hope of immortality.
That under all decaying form lies hid;
The old world worshipped thee, O Lotus flower,
Then carved its sphinx and reared its pyramid.