She lies, a grave disdain all her defence, <br />Too imperturbable for scorn. She hears <br />Only the murmur of the flowing years <br />That thunder slowly on her shores immense <br />And ebb away in moaning impotence. <br />Giants enduring, she and Time are peers-- <br />Her dream-hazed eyes knowing no hopes, no tears, <br />Her glance a langour-lidded insolence. <br />And though the rabble of the restless West <br />In her deserted courts set their rash sway, <br />She heeds them not; as when the sun, withdrawn <br />From his untarnished sky, knows it distressed <br />By storm of weakling stars, that he at dawn <br />Will wither with one ruthless glance away.<br /><br />Arthur Henry Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/china-1899/
