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


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,

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