Dreaming at Golden Hill
G. Bantock
The stranger merchants faring from the east
Muffled in cotton robes, have met to feast.
They drink, they revel, and they part at will,
While moonlight floods the towers of Golden Hill.
The third watch comes, the tide begins to flow;
A fair wind follows, and in dreams I blow
The reed-pipes, and have sailed to far Yangchow.