Palmyra, where art thou, all dreary and lone The breaths of thy fame like the night wind hath flown O’er thy temples thy minarets towers and halls The dark veil of oblivion silently falls
The sands of the desert sweep by thee in pride, They curl round thy brow like the foam of the tide And soon like the mountain stream’s wild rolling wave Will rush o’er and wrap thee at once in thy grave.
Oh where are the footsteps which once gaily flew O’er pavements where now weep the foxglove and yew Oh where are the voices which once gaily sung While the lofty-browed domes with melody rung.
They are silent -- and naught breaks the chaos of death Not a being now treads o’er the ivy’s dull wreath Save the raging hyena, whose terrible cry Echoes loud thro’ the halls and the palaces high
Thou art fallen Palmyra, and never to rise Thou queen of the East, thou bright child of the skies. Thou art lonely the desert around thee is wide Then haste to its arms, nor remember thy pride.
Thou’rt forgotten Palmyra; return thee to Earth. And great be thy fall as was stately thy birth With grandeur then bow ‘neath the pinion of time And sink not in splendor, but sadly sublime.