THE SPHINX.

O glad girls’ faces, hushed and fair! how shall I sing for ye?

For the grave picture of a sphinx is all that I can see.

Vain is the driving of the sand, and vain the desert's art;

The years strive with her, but she holds the lion in her heart.

Baffled or fostered, patient still, the perfect purpose clings;

Flying or folded, strong as stone, she wears the eagle's wings.

Eastward she looks; against the sky the eternal morning lies;

Silent or pleading, veiled or free, she lifts the woman's eyes.

O grave girls’ faces, listening kind! glad will I sing for ye,

While the proud figure of the sphinx is all that I can see.