Not a single cloud bedims the sky,
Not a shadow falls below,
But crocodiles creep, enfeebled by heat,
Through the lotus flowers that grow
On the banks of the Nile, the placid Nile,
The Nile of ages ago.
So sluggish and wan it wanders on
Where the citron and doum palms grow,
Where Sphinxes stare, through the lurid air,
At the sun in its molten glow;
That's called the Nile, the tranquil Nile,
Of ages and ages ago.
On the purple sheen of its mirror heart
Her galleys bend and row,
And Egypt's queen can still be seen,
Of olden lands the foe.
Ah! this was the Nile, the ancient Nile,
The Nile of the long ago.
By ashen banks of the ancient stream
The acacia tree bends low,
The ibis stands in this tomb of lands,
As if in a pallor of woe,
On the banks of the Nile, the sacred Nile,
The Nile of ages ago.
