The Celestial Weaver

A thing of stone beside Lake Kouen-ming

Has for a thousand autumns borne the name

Of the Celestial Weaver. Like that star

She shines above the waters, wondering

At her pale loveliness. Unnumbered waves

Have broidered with green moss the marble folds

About her feet. Toiling eternally

They knock the stone, like tireless shuttles plied

Upon a sounding loom.

                       Her pearly locks

Resemble snow-coils on the mountain top;

Her eyebrows arch — the crescent moon. A smile

Lies in the opened lily of her face;

And, since she breathes not, being stone, the birds

Light on her shoulders, flutter without fear

At her still breast. Immovable she stands

Before the shining mirror of her charms

And, gazing on their beauty, lets the years

Slip into centuries past her. . . .