Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/40

 ON THE DEATH OF SMET-SMET, THE HIPPOPOTAMUS-GODDESS

SONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS

(The Priests within the Temple)

was wrinkled and huge and hideous? She was our Mother.

She was lustful and lewd?—but a God; we had none other.

In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade;

We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were afraid.

{The People without)

She sent us pain,

And we bowed before Her;

She smiled again

And bade us adore Her.

She solaced our woe

And soothed our sighing;

And what shall we do

Now God is dying?

(The Priests within)

She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her?