Here you will find the Poem Ishmonie of poet Edward Booth Loughran
The traveller tells how, in that ancient clime Whose mystic monuments and ruins hoar Still struggle with the antiquary's lore, To guard the secrets of a by-gone time, He saw, uprising from the desert bare, Like a white ghost, a city of the dead, With palaces and temples wondrous fair, Where moon-horn'd Isis once was worshipped. But silence, like a pall, did all enfold, And the inhabitants were turn'd to stone -- Yea, stone the very heart of every one! Once to a rich man I this tale re-told. "Stone hearts! A traveller's myth!" -- he turn'd aside, As Hunger begg'd, pale-featured and wild-eyed.