KARNAK
I
Of all earth's shrines this is the mightiest,
And none is elder. Pylon, obelisk,
Column enormous—seek or east or west,
No temple like to Karnak 'neath the disk
Of the far-searching sun. Since the first stone
Here lifted to the heavens its dumb appeal,
Empires and races to the dread unknown
Have past—gods great and small 'neath Time's slow wheel
Have fallen and been crusht;—the earth hath shaken
Ruin on ruin—desolate, dead, forsaken.
II
Since first these stones were laid, the solid world,
Ay, this whole, visible, infinite universe,
Hath shifted on its base; suns have been hurled
From heaven; the ever-circling spheres rehearse
A music new to men. Yet still doth run
This river, throbbing life through all its lands;
Those desert mountains lifted to the sun
Live as of old; and these devouring sands;
And, under the changing heavens, amazed, apart—
Still, still the same the insatiate human heart.
III
And Thou, Eternal, Thou art still the same;
Thou unto whom the first, sad, questioning face
Yearned, for a refuge from the insentient frame
Of matter that doth grind us; seeking grace
From powers imagined 'gainst the powers we know;—
Some charm to avert the whirlwind, bring the tide
