
A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1916], at sacred-texts.com
Water and sky, as dusk folds down, together blend
     in a grey green mist
 Clear silhouettes of the trees are limned on a
     sunset of rose and amethyst.
 Moon doth creep from the bed of the deep paling
     the storm-black waves afar;
 Through frosted rushes ripe oranges are gleaming
     golden star on star.
 I am void of cares and affairs, so happily drink
     and dream in peace.
 Loud and shrill may the reed-pipes trill; when
     they touch my heart they cease.
 But my ten little painted ships to-night, where
     shall they anchored lie?
 At the foot of the Tung-t‘ing mountain, on the
     cold deep breast of lake T‘ai,