Homer, thy song men liken to the sea, With every note of music in his tone, With tides that wash the dim dominion Of Hades, and light waves that laugh in glee Around the isles enchanted: nay, to me Thy verse seems as the River of source unknown That glasses Egypt’s temples overthrown, In his sky-nurtur’d stream, eternally. No wiser we than men of heretofore To find thy mystic fountains guarded fast; Enough—thy flood makes green our human shore As Nilus, Egypt, rolling down his vast, His fertile waters, murmuring evermore Of gods dethroned, and empires of the Past. A. L.