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.