|Transcription of the poem|
The Ruins of Palmyra
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.
Description of "The Ruins of Palmyra"
Biography of Lucretia Maria Davidson