Classic Poem

Lady on the silver throne,
Like the moon thou art to me,
Something bright, august and lone,
Infinite in majesty!
How can I, a pilgrim, sing
Such a dazzling, distant thing?

But the Moon came down to earth,
Wiping tears from human eyes;
Thou dost bend to grief and mirth,
Woman in thy smiles and sighs;
Empress, take the human praise
That a subject dares not raise.