The Hippopotamus

The broad, fat, hippo of the Nile Is not a joyful creature. Much like some people I know, He has a poker face, Deep in the river’s silence, He does not laugh, He does not weep.

He lies submerged, as stone lies dark, His rounded girth unlike a tree, But far removed, His flesh has fallen into the dirt. In love with the water, He loves the water too much, Though there is never fear, And he does not care to fret.

I fear the hippo as I fear love, Too soft amongst the banks, Too unsure, too soft about the ear. He thinks the river is his home, And sadly lies so deep.

And the water wakes him up with dreams In the night, as he wanders lonely, But he cannot bear to cry aloud, And so, the broad, fat hippo Lies still, Stony eyed in a dreamless sleep.

• TS Eliot