On Easter Island, archeologists have learned
At last how those great monoliths were walked
As side by side the guy ropes slowly turned
And wobbled them along the course they stalked
Till each one took its place within the line
Of effigies in their rude pantheon
To represent their sense of the divine
Casting long shadows in the brightening dawn.
Yet ruefully those deities had failed
To save them once their timber was all burned,
When crops were gone and boats no longer sailed
And all the universe seemed unconcerned.
So when large ships arrived on Easter day,
They found old gods but no one left to pray.