The pyramid is built, is built,
And stone by stone the sphinx;
Upon the ground the wine is spilt,
And deep the builder drinks.
_Deeply the wise man in the desert thinks.
Hark to the lanterned gondolas!
The stream is incense-calmed;
We smoke, we draw the gods with praise,
They walk amongst us charmed.
Cries _"Never are the desert-sands disarmed."_
Our building toil is done, is done,
All strifes and quarrels cease;
And slaves and masters are at one,
And enemies at peace.
Cries: _"Yet the sands are stirred and wars increase."_
Riches and joy and thankfulness
By our rich river are;
To see our noble work and bless
Shall travellers come afar.
Cries: _"Yes, a jew, but many more for war."_