Night on the Lake
After Chang Ch’ien
Sunset bright in the west, and the lake agleam;
Dark my sails their rippled reflexion throw;
Woods and mountains one vast mystery seem
Now that the jade-bright cloud pagodas glow,
And as purple petals fallen on the waters low,
The islet shadows, and faint in the distance loom
The gates of the town, and the mists creep in tiptoe—
The Spirit finds itself in the glow and gloom.
Rising now with a far and eerie scream,
Shrill o’er the world the wings of the Night Wind go;
He cannot call the wildfowl out of their dream:
The cranes adream on the long sand-beaches low,
They heed him not. In his wake the waters flow
Heaving uneasily. . . . Far let him moan and boom
Down through the Forests of Tsu. . . . The first stars glow;
The Spirit finds itself in the gathering gloom.
Here in the bay will I bide, where the long reeds dream,
And the long faint wavelets wash in wandering slow. . . .
Lo yonder, down from the hill-top, beam on beam
Of silvery witchcraft shed from the white moon-bow,
And a hush and a tenderness fallen on the world below—
A glow and a tenderness forest and hills illume!—
Wake, my lute, with a tune out of ages ago!
The Spirit finds itself in the glittering gloom. . . .
L’Envoi:
Midnight cold, and a dew-drenched cloak—and lo!
I wake to this world hedged in by the cradle and tomb,
I am tossed once more where the life-tides ebb and flow—
But the Spirit found itself in the lute-sweet gloom. . . .
The Theosophical Path, September 1918
A venue to share my enthusiasm for the Welsh-born fantasist, Kenneth Morris (1879-1937)
Monday, May 11, 2026
Night on the Lake
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