Month after month the gathered rains descend
Drenching yon secret Aethiopian dells,
And from the desert-s ice-girt pinnacles
Where Frost and Heat in strange embraces blend
On Atlas, fields of moist snow half depend.
Girt there with blasts and meteors Tempest dwells
By Nile-s aereal urn, with rapid spells
Urging those waters to their mighty end.
O-er Egypt-s land of Memory floods are level
And they are thine, O Nile--and well thou knowest
That soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil
And fruits and poisons spring where-er thou flowest.
Beware, O Man--for knowledge must to thee,
Like the great flood to Egypt, ever be.
To The Nile
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Poem topics: evil, memory, snow, spring, soul, frost, great, knowledge, ice, level, secret, strange, depend, desert, thine, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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