Xanadu Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

In lands of grass where wild winds blow,
A city rose in stately pride.
Shangdu, the realm where legends grow,
Where nomad kings would come to hide.

Great Kublai Khan, a leader bold,
Built pleasure domes and gardens green.
A summer court of stone and gold,
To grace a mighty monarch's scene.

The steppe was vast, the sky was blue,
Where plow and pasture learned to share.
A hybrid world of grand design,
A wondrous blend beyond compare.

Then came the flame, a burning blight;
The palace fell to dust and ash.
Yet whispers lived within the night,
Above the weapons' heavy clash.

When Marco Polo, traveler keen,
Saw marble gleam across the sea,
He brought the world a dazzling scene
Of Asian grace and mystery.

And Coleridge dreamed in waking sleep
Of rivers deep and sacred caves.
In Xanadu, where secrets keep,
An alph rushed down to sunless waves.

Though sands may drift and ruins lie,
The phantom city sparkles bright.
Its golden myth will never die,
A heritage of timeless light.