The Sphinx

Behold, with empty sockets
Staring o'er the desert's way;
Mutely countenancing the tragedies
Of ages; crawled o'er as by gnats,
By tribes that in puny wonder
Seek to undo her silence;
Contemplating the onrush of Time
With the same stolidity the past
Hath met; with deaf ears turned
Unto the shrieks of tyranny,
And with unseeing eyes beholding
The sacrifices of construction;
Beholding with unfeeling sternness
The impunity of man's supplications;
Yet keeping faith with the ages that have passed,
And pledging faith in them to come.