Down from the Mountain

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.