Po Chu I. Myself

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

p. 67

Myself

What of myself?

I am like unto the sere chrysanthemum

That is shorn by the frost-blade, and, torn from its roots,

Whirled away on the wind.

Once in the valleys of Ch'in and Yung I rambled at will,

Now ring me round the unfriendly plains of the wild folk of Pa.

O galloping dawns with Youth and Ambition riding knee to knee!

Ride on, Youth, with the galloping dawns and dappled days!

I am unhorsed, outventured--

I, who crouch by the crumbling embers, old, and grey, and alone.

One great hour of noon with the sky-faring Rukh

I clanged on the golden dome of Heaven.

Now in the long dusk of adversity

I have found my palace of contentment my dream pavilion;

Even the tiny twig of the little humble wren.