A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1916], at sacred-texts.com

p. 53

BRIGHT AUTUMNTIDE

I climb the mountain of Tsyu-i. I look down on
      clear rivers.
Coldly the Syan speeds along, cold as it widens
      to meet the sea.
Clouds break into autumn tints, the skies are
      flaked with golden foam.
I am now in the foreign regions of Tsin and U;
      and countless are the miles of the trackless
      way, brushed by the wings of birds alone,
      lying between me and my native land.
Now with its half-disk leaning upon some island
      sets the evening sun.
The lake is beginning to glow. There soars the
      moon from the rim of the far-off sea.
And all my thoughts are plunged into the hardy
      loveliness of autumntide.
Northward I wander in dream to Yan, southward
      I search for Yuye…
The lotus is falling, falling. The river is jewelled
      with autumn hues.
Long, long the wind blows…Long, long the
      night wears!
Fain would I grasp the incredible…
Oh! to fly away seaward and dream for a little
      by its shores!…
To take from an island in blue ocean the six
      monsters—

p. 54

Alas, there is no such length of line.
My hand caresses the surging wind; I am deeper
      drowned in sorrow.
I will away! away! Too strong is the life of
      men for me.
There in the magical land of P‘eng-lai I will
      gather the grass of immortality.