No More Learning

Although I know that it is a poor return,
All I can give you is this description of my feelings.

[18] Odes, v, 10.


CH'IN CHIA'S WIFE'S REPLY

My poor body is alas unworthy:
I was ill when first you brought me home.
Limp and weary in the house--
Time passed and I got no better.
We could hardly ever see each other:
I could not serve you as I ought.
Then you received the Imperial Mandate:
You were ordered to go far away to the City.
Long, long must be our parting:
I was not destined to tell you my thoughts.
I stood on tiptoe gazing into the distance,
Interminably gazing at the road that had taken you.
With thoughts of you my mind is obsessed:
In my dreams I see the light of your face.
Now you are started on your long journey
Each day brings you further from me.
Oh that I had a bird's wings
And high flying could follow you.
Long I sob and long I cry:
The tears fall down and wet my skirt.


SONG

By Sung Tz? -hou (second century A. D.
)

On the Eastern Way at the city of Lo-yang
At the edge of the road peach-trees and plum-trees grow;
On the two sides,--flower matched by flower;
Across the road,--leaf touching leaf.

A spring wind rises from the north-east;
Flowers and leaves gently nod and sway.
Up the road somebody's daughter comes
Carrying a basket, to gather silkworms' food.

(_She sees the fruit trees in blossom and, forgetting about her
silkworms, begins to pluck the branches. _)

With her slender hand she breaks a branch from the tree;
The flowers fall, tossed and scattered in the wind.

_The tree says:_

"Lovely lady, I never did you harm;
Why should you hate me and do me injury? "

_The lady answers:_

"At high autumn in the eighth and ninth moons
When the white dew changes to hoar-frost,
At the year's end the wind would have lashed your boughs,
Your sweet fragrance could not have lasted long.
Though in the autumn your leaves patter to the ground,
When spring comes, your gay bloom returns.
But in men's lives when their bright youth is spent
Joy and love never come back again. "




CHAPTER II


SATIRE ON PAYING CALLS IN AUGUST

By Ch'? ng Hsiao (_circa_ A. D. 250)


When I was young, throughout the hot season
There were no carriages driving about the roads.
People shut their doors and lay down in the cool:
Or if they went out, it was not to pay calls.
Nowadays--ill-bred, ignorant fellows,
When they feel the heat, make for a friend's house.
The unfortunate host, when he hears someone coming
Scowls and frowns, but can think of no escape.