Slow glides the Nile; amid the margin-flags
Closed in a bulrush-ark the babe is left,—
Left by a mother’s hand. His sister waits
Far off; and pale, ’tween hope and fear, beholds
The royal maid, surrounded by her train,
Approach the river-bank; approach the spot
Where sleeps the innocent. She sees them stoop
With meeting plumes: the rushy lid is oped,
And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears,—
As when along a little mountain lake
The summer south-wind breathes a gentle sigh,
And parts the reeds, unveiling, as they bend,
A water-lily floating on the wave.
Storytellers and poets have been writing about the River Nile for thousands of years. There are many poems about the River Nile.