Methought upon the tomb-encumbered shore

I stood, of Egypt’s lone, monarchal stream,

And saw immortal Memnon, throned supreme

In gloom as of that Memphian night of yore:

Fold upon fold purpureal he wore,

Beneath the star-borne canopy extreme—

Carven of silence and colossal dream,

Where waters flowed like sleep forevermore.

Lo, in the darkness, thick with dust of years,

How many a ghostly god around his throne,

With thronging winds that were forgotten Fames,

Stood, ere the dawn restore to ancient ears

The long-withholden thunder of their names,

And music stilled to monumental stone.