Ishmonie
Born 12/13/1850
The traveller tells how, in that ancient clime
Whose mystic monuments and ruins hoar
Still struggle with the antiquary's lore,
To guard the secrets of a by-gone time,
He saw, uprising from the desert bare,
Like a white ghost, a city of the dead,
With palaces and temples wondrous fair,
Where moon-horn'd Isis once was worshipped.
But silence, like a pall, did all enfold,
And the inhabitants were turn'd to stone --
Yea, stone the very heart of every one!
Once to a rich man I this tale re-told.
"Stone hearts! A traveller's myth!" -- he turn'd aside,
As Hunger begg'd, pale-featured and wild-eyed.
DayPoems Poem No. 885
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/885.html">Ishmonie by Edward Booth Loughran</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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