Poetry Archives

O sleepless Sphinx!
    Thy sadly patient eyes,
Forever gazing o’er the shifting sands,
Have watched Earth’s countless dynasties arise,
Stalk forth like spectres waving gory hands,
Then fade away with scarce a lasting trace
To mark the secret of their dwelling place:
    O sleepless Sphinx!

    O changeless Sphinx!
    The very dawn of Time
Beheld thee sculptured from the living rock!
Still wears thy face its primal look sublime,
Surviving all the hoary ages’ shock:
Still royal art thou in thy proud repose,
As when the sun on tuneful Memnon rose,
    O changeless Sphinx!

    O voiceless Sphinx!
    Thy solemn lips are dumb;
Time’s awful secrets lie within thy breast;
Age follows age; revering pilgrims come
From every clime to urge the same request,—
That thou wilt speak! Poor creatures of a day,
In calm disdain thou seest them die away:
    O voiceless Sphinx!

    Majestic Sphinx!
    Thou crouchest by a sea
Whose fawn-hued wavelets clasp thy buried feet:
Whose desert-surface, petrified like thee,
Gleams white with sails of many an Arab fleet:
Whose tawny billows, surging with the storm,
Break on thy flanks, and overleap thy form;
    Majestic Sphinx!

    Eternal Sphinx!
    The Pyramids are thine;
Their giant summits guard thee night and day,
On thee they look when stars in splendor shine,
Or while around their crests the sunbeams play:
Thine own coevals, who with thee remain
Colossal Genii of the boundless plain!
    Eternal Sphinx!