THE broad-backed hippopotamus
　　Rests on his belly in the mud;
　　Although he seems so firm to us
　　He is merely flesh and blood.
　　
　　Flesh-and-blood is weak and frail,
　　Susceptible to nervous shock;
　　While the True Church can never fail
　　For it is based upon a rock.
　　
　　The hippo's feeble steps may err
　　In compassing material ends,
　　While the True Church need never stir
　　To gather in its dividends.
　　
　　The 'potamus can never reach
　　The mango on the mango-tree;
　　But fruits of pomegranate and peach
　　Refresh the Church from over sea.
　　
　　At mating time the hippo's voice
　　Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
　　But every week we hear rejoice
　　The Church, at being one with God.
　　
　　The hippopotamus's day
　　Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
　　God works in a mysterious way--
　　The Church can sleep and feed at once.
　　
　　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.

【注释】 "The Hippopotamus" is reprinted from Poems. T.S. Eliot. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1920.