Classic Poem

Here are records of man and woman,
Of sun, mountain, sea, and moon,
Of shining rivers and terraced gardens,
From very far away
And mostly from very long ago,
From a people so alien
In skin, profile, gait, raiment,
And in manner of eating and drinking,
Of saluting and bidding farewell,
Of so strange a speech too. . . .
Yet how simple and near are the records,
Like the family-papers of a friend
Across the street.