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Poem	As down Mount Emerald at eve I came, The mountain moon went all the way with me. Backward I looked, to see the heights aflame With a pale light that glimmered eerily. A little lad undid the rustic latch As hand in hand your cottage we did gain, Where green limp tendrils at our cloaks did catch, And dim bamboos o'erhung a shadowy lane. Gaily I cried, "Here may we rest our fill!" Then choicest wines we quaffed; and cheerily "The Wind among the Pines" we sang, until A few faint stars hung in the Galaxy. Merry were you, my friend: and drunk was I, Blissfully letting all the world go by.
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