To The Nile

Month after month the gathered rains descend
Drenching yon secret Aethiopian dells,
And from the desert-s ice-girt pinnacles
Where Frost and Heat in strange embraces blend
On Atlas, fields of moist snow half depend.
Girt there with blasts and meteors Tempest dwells
By Nile-s aereal urn, with rapid spells
Urging those waters to their mighty end.
O-er Egypt-s land of Memory floods are level
And they are thine, O Nile--and well thou knowest
That soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil
And fruits and poisons spring where-er thou flowest.
Beware, O Man--for knowledge must to thee,
Like the great flood to Egypt, ever be.