The Extreme Orient

AN evening music in the reed was heard.
I went to the river alone. I freed the painter,
I laid me down in the junk was never a quainter,
Noiselessly, not to startle any bird.

And the junk lay in the water like a pillow,
And where it glided knew not. O beyond saying
The charm to be on unknown waters straying!...
And sometimes I bent back the bough of a willow.

And breathed, upon a wave of indolence rocked,
Thy soul, thou evening no sound-shiver shocked,
For subtly I do love the twilight air;

And sister of my dream sad water that sighs is,
Diaphanous my cup is, and I bear
A melancholy heart where the moon rises.