MOONLIGHT OVER MOUKDEN
Moon of harvests and of toil she slowly mounts the aged Chinese Sky,
A sky of fairness, alabaster, ivory, like an antique shrine
Of ancient lineage and proud, her charm mingled of the mellow mystery of joy and tears;
In glory young, though old in years.
Glories indeed have been, an emperor sleeps within a tomb
Forgotten with the sigh, men breathed in his domain,
Nature and life rebuilt from death to radiant dreams,
Who notes the Past, as tolls the silver chime new hours?
Night speaks and light still streams;
Around her future like her rays, is mystery,
But as days die, new days begin, of history far mightier:
Great light appears across Time’s pageant, lighting to grander victory;
Victory deathless as moonbeams, and Love builds temples through all glooms.