.Is there a hippo cult emerging here?
The last three stanzas, out of nine, in T. S. Eliot’s The Hippopotamus.
I saw the ’potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.
.Is there a hippo cult emerging here?
The last three stanzas, out of nine, in T. S. Eliot’s The Hippopotamus.
I saw the ’potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.