The Collected poems of Rupert Brooke/On the Death of Smet-Smet
ON THE DEATH OF SMET-SMET, THE HIPPOPOTAMUS-GODDESS
SONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS
(The Priests within the Temple)
She 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?
She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her.
We were loathèd and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.
She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died.
(The People without)
She was so strong;
But death is stronger.
She ruled us long;
But Time is longer.
She solaced our woe
And soothed our sighing;
And what shall we do
Now God is dying?