In keeping with my Ancient Egyptian theme for the week, to celebrate the release of Priestess of the Nile:
Mysterious Flood,—that through the silent sands
Hast wandered, century on century,
Watering the length of great Egyptian lands,
Which were not, but for thee.
Bayard Taylor—To the Nile.
Son of the old moon-mountains African!
Stream of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert, fills our seeing’s inward span.
Keats—Sonnet. To the Nile.
And then this one, whimsical, don’t know that anyone would be brave enough to recite it to Sobek:
How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!