The Assouan Dam

There is a lake at Philae
Where once a temple rose.
Steel walls confront the river,
The great gates open and close;
And through parched wastes the wilful Nile
Obediently flows.

There is a lake at Philae,
And starving mouths are fed.
The old gods of the desert
Sleep in the river’s bed.
So still in wave-locked halls they lie
It may be they are dead.