<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115914" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus Goddess: Song of a Tribe of the Ancient Egyptians</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(The Priests within the Temple)<br>She was wrinkled and huge and hideous? She was our mother.<br>She was lustful and lewd? — but a God; we had none other.<br>In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade;<br>We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were afraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(The People within)<br>     She sent us pain,<br>      And we bowed before Her;<br>     She smiled again<br>      And bade us adore Her.<br>     She solaced our woe<br>      And soothed our sighing;<br>     And what shall we do<br>      Now God is dying?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(The Priests within)<br>She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her?<br>She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her.<br>We were loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.<br>She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(The People within)<br>     She was so strong;<br>      But Death is stronger.<br>     She ruled us long;<br>      But Time is longer.<br>     She solaced our woe<br>      And soothed our sighing;<br>     And what shall we do<br>      Now God is dying?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rupert+Brooke">Rupert Brooke</a> from <i>The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke, With a Memoir</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115914" data-title="On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus Goddess: Song of a Tribe of the Ancient Egyptians de Rupert Brooke" data-description="(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 ..."></div> </div> </div>

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