TO A ROYAL MUMMY

BY ANNA GLEN STODDARD

THOU, Queen who wast,
Now gruesome shape,
Linen and dust,
At whom they gape,—
The multitude,
Ogling and rude,—
What is the message,
Warning, or presage,
Thy vast experience,
Our vast impertinence,
Bid thee impart to us,
Baring thy heart to us?
Blazoned the case
Of Egypt’s crown-jewel.
Proud was thy race,
Haughty and cruel;
Scribed here their history,
Glory, and mystery.
When life was ended,
Shrouded and splendid,
How they entombed thee!
No grave enwombed thee.
Walled in a pyramid,
Thy regal beauty hid.
Aye, thou wert queenly,
Majestic, inviolate,
Who now so meanly
Liest in state.
A Pharaoh sired thee;
Kings have desired thee:
Forgot now, despoiled.
Thy beauty assoiled,
What if thy wisdom taught
That out of all is naught?
What if thy secret be
That all is vanity?