China 1899

She lies, a grave disdain all her defence,

Too imperturbable for scorn. She hears

Only the murmur of the flowing years

That thunder slowly on her shores immense

And ebb away in moaning impotence.

Giants enduring, she and Time are peers—

Her dream-hazed eyes knowing no hopes, no tears,

Her glance a langour-lidded insolence.

And though the rabble of the restless West

In her deserted courts set their rash sway,

She heeds them not; as when the sun, withdrawn

From his untarnished sky, knows it distressed

By storm of weakling stars, that he at dawn

Will wither with one ruthless glance away.