Classic Poem

Solitary at the tavern,
I am shut in with loneliness and grief.
Under the cold lamp, I brood on the past;
I am kept awake by a lost wildgoose.
...Roused at dawn from a misty dream,
I read, a year late, news from home
And I remember the moon like smoke on the river
And a fisher-boat moored there, under my door.