The Pyramid Poem by Samuel Alfred Beadle

The pyramid through ages past,
Through all their tempest, storm and blast,
Held its apex up to grasp
The elements.


Three thousand years, long and fleet,
Have struck their colors at its feet,
Ten thousand more its strength shall meet
Till time is done.


Where is the tower Babel built?
Where is Tyre's crimson hilt?
Judea's temple. and the guilt
Her neighbors' knew?


They're gone at oblivion's call -
Old Egypt's skill survives them all -
Yet in the art of Pharaoh's pall
The Egyptian lives.