9. On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess. I. 1905–1908. Brooke, Rupert. 1916. Collected Poems

Verse > Rupert Brooke > Collected Poems > I. 1905–1908 > 9. On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess

Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916.

I. 1905–1908

9. 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,	5
And we bowed before Her;
She smiled again
And bade us adore Her.
She solaced our woe
And soothed our sighing;	10
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.	15
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.	20
She solaced our woe
And soothed our sighing;
And what shall we do
Now God is dying?